


A story of man-boobs and bath time

by Sexycanofsoup



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexycanofsoup/pseuds/Sexycanofsoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner was having enough trouble trying to deal with the fact that Bertholdt was angry at him BEFORE the boy showed up: drunk, ridiculous, and completely intent on driving Reiner out of his mind. Suddenly his suppressed feelings for his best friend became a hell of a lot harder to keep down as miscommunication, grabby hands, and ill timed baths were added to the mix. Reiner never stood a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A story of man-boobs and bath time

**Author's Note:**

> To Nene for inspiring in me so many reibert feels that I had to get them out somehow. This is the result.

A story of man-boobs and bath time

Reiner reached the bottom of the page he’d been reading and realized he hadn’t taken in a word of it. With a sigh he darted his eyes back up to the top and attempted a fresh start. It was a hard enough book to slog through. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy reading when he’d taken in the title “The inner workings of the 3DMG: understanding the core of the Titan slaying equipment” the first time. It was a very technical study filled with jargon and dense history, but he’d been determined to slog through it in his spare hours outside of training. However, he’d made that resolution _before_ he’d been exposed to the current distractions that faced him.

                “Okay, now I’m definitely sure your brain was switched with a donkey’s at birth,” Jean exclaimed with a derisive laugh as he snatched Eren’s paper and held it aloft.

                “Hey! Give that back you damn—“

                “Maneuver has only one “n” you complete nincompoop!”

                “I know that already, horse face, I was just writing quickly!”

                “Excuses, excuses. I just hope Mikasa never realizes the sheer magnitude of your stupidity or you’ll break her poor heart.”

                All this time Eren was struggling to reach the paper, but Jean, being taller, was doing an excellent job at keeping it out of his hands.

                “You’re just hoping that’ll be the case because then it’ll be easier to get into her pants.”

                “What? How dare you accuse me of—“

                The rest of their words resolved into shouts and grunts as Eren tackled him around the middle and took them both to the ground. They began to grapple around uselessly as their homework was left forgotten on the table. Both looked like they were having a lot better time now and were glad for the break.

                Reiner snorted. He’d finished the essay on the proper ways to engage Titans they both were working on that was due in class tomorrow. He’d done it with Bertholdt over the last two days, though he wasn’t surprised that these procrastinating idiots had waited until the last minute to do it. Well, actually, he was pretty sure he’d seen Jean complete his essay already. It looked like _someone_ was only pretending not to have done the work in order to spend more time with a certain handsome green eyed boy. Reiner rolled his eyes and turned the page of his book. Honestly both of them were ridiculously obvious, and he spoke for everyone when he mentally urged them both to just get it on already. No doubt the resulting decrease in sexual tension would likely make them both easier to be around after this.

                Reiner flinched when he heard a glass of water smash as it was knocked to the ground by the two rampaging rhinos he called roommates. But he was determined to ignore them and return to his book, only now he had a distraction bigger than the two in front of him could ever hope to compete with.

                Bertholdt.

                It was always difficult to keep the boy from the forefront of his thoughts, but now it was particularly impossible. Because Bertholdt was mad at him. It was such a rare occurrence that Reiner never really knew how to comfortably deal with the situation. But now it was even worse than usual because Reiner had no idea what he had done to bother the boy. He was sure it had to be significant, because Bertholdt had tremendous patience when it came to him, and he had a high threshold for Reiner’s occasional idiocy.

                Reiner let the book fall onto his lap, determined to parse out the puzzle before him. It had happened two hours ago. They’d just been talking, and then suddenly Bertholdt had stood up, gave him a look like he’d just stabbed 22 orphaned kittens, and then walked out with a stiff, “I need some fresh air.” Reiner couldn’t imagine how much fresh air a guy could need, but as time ticked on he guessed Bertholdt had needed rather a lot of it. He’d already tried to recall every word they’d spoken, but the exact words had escaped him due to the triviality of the conversation. It had just been a light talk about the strengths and weaknesses of their fellow trainees. They’d been playfully arguing about who would fall into the top ten. The mood had been nice, and Reiner had been enjoying himself plentifully, just as he did every other time he spoke to his best friend. But then somehow everything had gone wrong, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what.

                Reiner could feel knots tighten in his stomach and he knew there would be no more reading. It had just been a tactic to try and distract himself from his current situation, but now he knew there was no distracting himself. Bertholdt was too important to him. The only truly important person to him in a way. They were each other’s family, he supposed, now that each of them was alone in that regard, but Reiner didn’t like putting the label of “brother” on the other boy despite the fact that they were certainly close enough for the title to apply. No, though he tried not to think about it, he enjoyed the other boy’s touch and scent far too much for a brother’s interest. He never allowed himself to dwell on this reality, keeping his thoughts under iron control at all hours of the day and night. Except…there were times where control was impossible, such as when he slept, and that gave way to problems. He was just glad that he so rarely dreamt because he was having much difficulty just repressing the few dreams he _had_ had.

                At first it hadn’t been too difficult. The dreams had been very vague. They were filled mostly with just colors and warmth and a vague sense of happiness. But slowly those colors had morphed into hands and the warmth had become a voice, and both those things had belonged to Bertholdt—at least the dream version of him. The words were always sweet and they made something large and solid inside of him ache with nameless urgency. Because it was getting more urgent. Last week’s dream had assured him of that. In the dreams Reiner was never able to move, it was always just his best friend’s hands. Only this time, instead of gentle, safe caresses, the hands had been marked with a sense of desperation. They’d begun to tear at him, tugging, pulling, _wanting_. And Reiner had shot up in bed, his heart pounding like the steam engines they used to transport passengers through the walls, and he hadn’t been able to sleep for the rest of the night. Mostly because he’d been afraid. Because even though his body was yearning to return to the dream, to see how it had ended, he also knew that the ending of the dream would mark a change—he wouldn’t be able to go back after that. His thoughts would no longer be able to be clamped down, and he’d be forced to look them full in the eye.

                So he’d taken to swallowing large amounts of chamomile tea before bed in an attempt to keep his sleep quiet and undisturbed. But he knew these measures were just delaying the inevitable. Reiner’s currently balanced life was on the precipice of something.

                Another crash caused Reiner to flinch, and with unusual levels of aggravation he shouted, “If you’re going to continue this nonsense then take it to bed. No one needs to see you two rolling on the floor like a couple of animals!”

                It was the tone they reacted to, freezing in place, tangled up in each other’s limbs. But then their minds processed the words he’d spoken, and they both scrambled to sit up, pushing at the other, in an attempt to show that _no_ they would never _think_ to willingly place a finger on the other. And that they had _no_ inkling of interest in the other one _at all_ that wasn’t mired in layers upon layers of aggression and hatred. Though the light blushes on both their faces said more than any of their gestures could have. With a grunt of disapproval, Reiner flipped over onto his stomach, causing his book to slide from his abdomen and off of the bed. It hit the floor with a thud that the large boy ignored. He knew there was nothing that could make him grumpier than his anxiety for Bertholdt could, but knowing that gave him no leverage over his mood. In fact, it may even have soured it further.

                It didn’t help that Reiner realized that the only person who’d be able to comfort him in the absence of Bertholdt was the boy himself. It was a conundrum that had no solution and that made the world an even suckier place to live in.

                _Want Bertholdt_.

                Even the thought sounded like a grunt to him in his own mind. He let his head flop face first onto the pillow and quietly groaned. He wished they hadn’t had dinner yet. That would have given him an excuse to see Bertholdt again. But now… he’d just have to wait up until Bertholdt decided to show his face. He hated waiting, but knew that trying to look for Bertholdt would no doubt prove fruitless, and there was a good chance that if he _did_ go out he’d miss Bertholdt coming back. No. waiting was the best option—but it was also the most infuriating.

                Reiner was debating the pros and cons of rolling back to his initial position, when something settled the matter—the door slamming open. Reiner flipped over with a suddenness aided by his military training. His sore mood would have guaranteed some harsh bellowing on his part had the intruder been anyone but the boy in front of him.

                “Reiner,” Bertholdt breathed, eyes moving to him without assessing anything else in the room first. Reiner could understand that. He himself couldn’t force preferential interest on anyone else when the other boy was in the room. But even though he had greeted his friend what had to be thousands of times by now, this time he froze. Because at that moment Bertholdt’s face lit up in a full, heart stopping smile that revealed more of his teeth than Reiner had probably ever seen. And he looked at the boy an awful lot.

                Reiner couldn’t tell how the other room’s occupants were reacting to this anomaly because he was too overwhelmed himself. Bertholdt smiling was always a rare and beautiful treasure—but _this_ smile was beyond that. This smile was pure open happiness, and he looked like that while he was looking at Reiner—something Reiner would have to sing praises for all throughout his time left on this earth. Bertholdt’s smiles were usually so fleeting that observers were left to wonder whether they’d seen them at all. They were just a brief upward quirk of lips that was usually quickly hidden behind a bashful shoulder. But this wasn’t a quirk of lips. It was as if the sun had come out after a rain shower. It was the brightest, more beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and Reiner felt himself being sucked toward it. And, seeing the smile, he felt like he’d been deprived his whole life without knowing it.

                There was no way he could have prepared himself for something like this, but it didn’t matter, because Bertholdt didn’t give him any time to react anyway because the next moment, Bertholdt broke the spell that was holding them immobile as he leapt toward the blonde boy with a cry so happy one might have thought he’d just witnessed his entire family being brought back to life rather than merely setting his sights on a face he saw multiple times a day.

                “Reiner!” he cried again, and Reiner barely got his hands out in time before the tall boy tackled him to the bed. Despite Bertholdt’s lighter frame, the velocity he’d obtained racing toward the blonde ensured that when he hit him, Reiner’s breath left him in an explosive rush. He didn’t give the blonde a chance for a breather either. The moment they landed, he scrambled upward in a tangle of limbs in order to grab hold of Reiner’s face. The motion wasn’t rough, exactly, but it had a lot more pressure than Bertholdt’s usual whisper light touches, and it was rather clumsy—as Bertholdt nearly poked him in the eye with his efforts. But he didn’t seem to notice this as he pushed his face right up into Reiner’s space and exclaimed, “Reiner!”

Reiner didn’t know what was stranger: the fact that Bertholdt was now expressing more feeling than he had in all the time Reiner had known him put together, or that he was currently shouting—because there was no denying that the normally soft spoken boy was now speaking at a much louder volume—Reiner’s name as if it was the best conglomeration of syllables in the whole known universe. But he quickly resolved that it didn’t matter, because right now what he needed to settle on was a reaction to all this, but then before he could gather his thoughts his body decided for him, and he huffed out a surprised laugh.

“Bertl, what on earth are you—“

Bertholdt let himself collapse entirely on top of Reiner, his arms giving out as his forehead thunked down on top of Reiner’s. It would have hurt had he not already been so close to the blonde that it was hardly a fall of any significance.

Once more the dark haired boy didn’t let on that he was bothered in the slightest by this, and instead he rolled happily with Reiner across the bed, letting out a laugh as he did so. “I found you! I’m so happy I found you!”

As the words left the boy’s mouth, Bertholdt’s breath fanned out across Reiner’s face, and it smelled so out of place on the boy that Reiner blinked, and consequently froze: alcohol. Bertholdt smelled like he’d been chugging a significant amount of the stuff.

Once more Reiner’s body settled on a bark of surprised laughter. “Wait—are you _drunk_?” he asked, securing Bertholdt’s arms so he didn’t continue to roll.

The taller boy treated him to an even more blinding version of his smile. “Nooooooo” he replied, stretching out the word until it nearly lost all its meaning, and then promptly cracked up at the strangeness of his own voice.

Reiner’s eyes were already opened so wide that if he opened them anymore his eyeballs would pop right out of their sockets. He pulled his body up until he was leaning over the taller boy, and examined him as if he’d just fallen from the sky. He had no idea what to say. He’d been expecting a quietly sulking Bertholdt to slink into the room sometime later, not this—this ball of adorable playfulness. It was quite clear, despite Bertholdt’s objection, that he was undoubtedly _wasted._

Bertholdt attempted to throw his arms up over Reiner’s neck, but he missed, so he settled for booping the blonde’s nose and then bursting into laughter once more as if he’d just discovered the greatest amusement of all time. He then proceeded to do it several more times while Reiner remained frozen with complete disbelief.

“What the crap!” Eren finally shouted, expressing everyone’s opinion, while also reminding Reiner that he wasn’t the only one in the room. While he’d been waiting for Bertholdt to return many of the trainees had come back to the dorm.

Bertholdt, hearing the voice, scrunched up his nose in confusion (a gesture that was so infinitely cute that Reiner’s heart would have stopped if it hadn’t already been frozen for quite some time now). The voice’s distraction made Bertholdt forget that he’d been enthusiastically booping Reiner’s nose, and now when he threw his arms up, he managed to catch them around Reiner.

“Reiner!” he shouted yet again, making it clear that this was his new favorite word, “I’m soooo happy you’re here.”

Reiner reached to steady Bertholdt who was trying to scramble up into a sitting position without the use of his hands. “Where else would I be?” he said with more than a little confusion.

But apparently this question wasn’t worth answering because Bertholdt ignored it in favor of climbing up into Reiner’s lap. He still had his hands hooked around the blonde’s neck. “You’re my friend,” he stated with drunken authority, “My faaavorite friend.”

Reiner was very confused about the current situation, but realized he would have to go along with Bertholdt’s seemingly strange trains of thought if he was going to get any information out of him. “That’s right,” Reiner agreed, “Your best friend.”

The happiness this statement inspired in Bertholdt was explosive. His arms tightened to choking levels around the blonde’s neck, and he pressed his cheek to Reiner’s and began to rub it vigorously against the boy’s face like he the world’s most enthusiastic cat. “Yes! Best favorite friend forever and ever!”

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Jean demanded coming closer as Connie leapt down from his bunk bed to investigate as well.

Reiner began to pull at Bertholdt’s fingers as gently as he could in the hopes of _not_ choking to death. Reiner didn’t answer him. It was rather obvious what had happened to the boy, and if Jean couldn’t see that, Reiner wasn’t going to waste his breath trying to explain it to him. He had his clearly established best friend to take care of.

But before he could inquire as to where on earth he’d managed to procure alcohol in the first place, Reiner had to ask him the question burning at the top of his mind. “Wait, so you’re _not_ angry at me anymore?”

Bertholdt seemed so surprised at the question that he even left off attempting to squeeze Reiner to death. He drew back a little in order to look at him, appearing even taller to Reiner because of his current position in his lap.

“Angry?” he asked, making the word sound foreign, “Why would I be angry at my favorite person?” The mention of the word “favorite” made Bertholdt brighten considerably and he smiled again and nodded, “Reiner’s the favorite because he’s the best. He makes me soooo happy.”

Reiner’s anxiety and confusion were quickly becoming taken over by his mutual affection for the boy, and his extremely close proximity was making his heart race. He’d been so careful lately to never touch the boy unless it was necessary because of the kinds of feelings that would inspire. But now Bertholdt was literally throwing himself at Reiner, and so he was left with big armfuls of this precious boy he could hardly believe he wasn’t dreaming up.

But no. He needed to focus. He couldn’t let himself be swept away by Bertholdt’s bright smiles and heart melting words. He was the sober one, as well as the older one, if only by a few months—but those were months he took very seriously. He’d always been protective of the handsome dark haired boy, since the first day they’d met. Reiner had seen him, huddled in the corner of the warehouse type building they’d been kept in for months before they’d finally been told the part they were to play in destroying the walls. He hadn’t been that tall then, and he’d been so slender that Reiner had been afraid he’d break the boy. Reiner had put his hand out to him to lift him up and ask him his name, and he could still remember how the boy had looked up at him with those beautiful green eyes and told him it was “Bertholdt.” He hadn’t expected those eyes, or the gentle voice that accompanied them. He’d known right then that he’d protect the boy from everything—from the guards that kept them locked in the warehouse, from the Titans beyond the wall, and from anyone else who would ever try to mistreat him.

He remembered the first time he’d seen Bertholdt in his titan form, but despite his size, and the fact that, let’s face it, there probably wasn’t a thing in the world that could harm him as long as he had the ability to shift, Reiner didn’t feel any of the protective feelings fade. In fact, they had strengthened, because he knew that people looking at him wouldn’t see what he saw. They’d see a monster that needed to be eradicated, not a terrified little boy who had been told his family would be killed if he didn’t cooperate. Of course they’d found out later that their families had been dead the whole time. Reiner had suspected it all the while, but Bertholdt had held strong to the idea that he’d see them again, and had taken the news really hard.

Reiner looked at the boy now and felt a flood of affection sweep through him like a warm blanket. He reached up and pressed the back of his knuckles to the boy’s cheek. He was no longer the skinny little thing he’d first met. He remembered how he’d been able to count his ribs. Bertholdt hadn’t been eating before Reiner joined him at the warehouse. He’d been too afraid. Reiner had fixed that. Well, at least partly. Bertholdt had still been terrified, but Reiner had promised him that he’d break them out of there if it was the last thing he did, and informed Bertholdt that he had to eat so that he’d have the strength to run when Reiner told him to. Reiner hadn’t actually thought he’d manage to break them out. They’d been guarded so heavily it made the army’s reinforcements look like child’s play. He’d said it to get Bertholdt to eat. And it had worked. Of course after their attack on the wall Bertholdt had fallen back to the no eating, and then the nightmares had begun. He still had them. Dreams about being covered in other people’s blood. Dreams about screaming and death and terror. And it was terrible because Bertholdt wouldn’t wake from them until they were over. He’d cry out in his sleep and it would wake Reiner, and every time it happened it would break his heart. He’d found that if he squeezed the boy’s hand it would help Bertholdt transition to restful sleep quicker, so he’d taken to doing that every time he heard Bertholdt’s cries. This was his exception to the no touching rule. He’d take the consequences of the thoughts it brought him as long as he felt he was helping the other boy.

But now the boy in front of him was strong. He was tall and fit and so handsome it made Reiner’s jaw ache (because of how often he had to clench it to keep himself from saying anything inappropriate). He felt Bertholdt’s warm face beneath his hand, and jumped, not having realized he’d lifted his hand to touch him. But before he could pull it back, Bertholdt’s hand came down on top of it and kept it there. The hand was warm and dry, so different from the other times he’d held it. During his dreams, Bertholdt would sweat enough to soak his sheets. But now the hand was dry. Apparently he wasn’t experiencing any anxiety or nervousness. It seemed miraculous to Reiner, especially because right now he himself was the exact opposite of calm. His heart was thundering so hard he’d be surprised if they didn’t hear it over in the girl’s dormitory.

Bertholdt though appeared to be deaf, because he was totally unperturbed as he leaned down and rested his head against Reiner’s forehead once more. “My Reiner,” he said, and the sound had a bit of growly possessiveness to it, though it was still playful.

Reiner was tempted to give his wholehearted support to this statement. He definitely felt like he belonged to Bertholdt. He’d dedicated his life to the boy long ago.

“No one else’s, okay?” Bertholdt said.

Even had the question been ridiculous, Reiner would have agreed to it. The moment Bertholdt had gotten this close his brain had turned to mush. But this question’s answer was so simple that even in this state Reiner was able to answer it. “Of course,” he murmured, low enough so that only Bertholdt could hear.

Bertholdt let out a happy noise that sounded midway between a chirp and a laugh and dropped his head to Reiner’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as he did so. It was at that point that Reiner began to have difficulty breathing—and Bertholdt wasn’t even choking him this time. But it was the boy’s next words that really did him in.

“If you really want a bride that badly then please choose me.”

Reiner blinked, made a sound like a dying seal, and then promptly choked on his own saliva. As he began to have a hacking coughing fit, the room exploded around him.

“Did he just say what I think he—“

“Oh my god!” Jean interrupted by shoving Eren aside, “He’s _totally_ wasted.”

“Oh leave him alone. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Connie said, trying to pull the others away to give the boys some room.

Reiner’s mind snagged on Connie’s words and felt them instill both some calm as well as some pain into him. That’s right. Bertholdt was drunk. He didn’t mean anything that he was saying. He probably wouldn’t remember any of this come morning. But Bertholdt didn’t care that he was drunk. He was going to get his point across.

“So don’t go marrying Christa, okay? That would make me so so sad because you’re mine, not hers. And besides, she’s gay for Ymir anyway so even if you wanted…though you’re so pretty that she’d probably fall for you even though you’re a guy…maybe it’s also cuz of your boobs. You have such nice boobs Reiner. They’re so big and cushiony. I’ve never seen anyone else, man or woman, with such nice…but of course it’s cuz Reiner’s the best. _The best_. And he’s _my_ friend. _My_ Reiner. My—“

“Wait,” Reiner said insistently over both Bertholdt, who was rambling, and the boys who were howling with laughter around him, “What’s this about Christa? Why are you talking about her? And brides? Who ever said anything about me marrying—“

“Don’t lie!”

For the first time since he entered the room, Bertholdt looked upset. As the boy lifted his head from Reiner’s shoulder, the blonde saw that Bertholdt’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was swaying slightly. He grabbed onto the front of Reiner’s shirt for support.

“You were the one who said you wanted her for a wife. You said it,” the words were thrown out vehemently, and even though they made no sense to Reiner, he could clearly see the hurt splashed across the boy’s face. After seeing him smile so brightly the change seemed particularly devastating. “But you _can’t_ do that. Promise me you won’t. Please Reiner. You can’t leave me. I won’t be able to handle it.”

The sudden change in the boy’s emotions was as confusing as it was heart rending. Reiner caught sight of the boy’s bottom lip trembling and immediately had the urge to have a stampede of horses trample over him repeatedly in order to atone for doing such a thing. Naturally, he rushed to try and fix it.

“No, Bertl please, I never said anything like that. I’m not getting married. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But the boy wouldn’t be appeased. The words just made him more upset and he smacked his hands against Reiner’s chest. “No! You’re lying! You said it. You’re going to leave, and Christa will have you instead of me. And I’ll die from sadness. I’ll cry until I dissolve. She’s not supposed to have you. I am. I always knew it. Felt it since we first met. You’re supposed to be mine always. She can’t just come in and take you away. She _can’t_.”

Reiner felt the situation running away from him, and he didn’t feel like he had the power to fix it. He was so confused. Of course he wouldn’t want to marry Christa. He was gay as hell, there was no point in denying it anymore, and he wanted Bertholdt more than anything else this world had to offer. He didn’t understand any of this, and he couldn’t think, because Bertholdt’s eyes were wet and shiny, and oh god, he knew if he made the boy cry he’d never forgive himself. Not sweet gentle Bertholdt.

So he did the first thing that crossed his mind. He grabbed the other boy and pulled him down into a hug, crushing the boy close so that his head rested on the glorious boobs he’d been praising only a minute ago. Reiner’s brain was revving to find something to put the boy’s fears to rest, but the shouts around him weren’t making it any easier to concentrate.

“You asshole! Look what you did!” Jean cried.

“Oi! What did you say to him you bastard!” Eren added, for once in agreement with Jean.

“Why would you say something like that?”

“What the hell, Reiner?”

“Christa? Really?”

“No way, man! _I’m_ marrying Christa!”

“Wait until Ymir hears about this…”

“Shut up! I’m trying to sleep!”

“Wait! I just walked in, what happened?”

“Why are we all shouting?”

“Why aren’t _you_ shouting?”

“If Shadis hears you guys he’ll rip our nipples off and feed them to the Titans!”

“I _said_ I’m trying to sleep over here!”

“No one gives a crap about you, Thomas.”

“Yeah Thomas, go suck a bag of dicks.”

“Plus your feet smell!”

“Wait? Is it insult Thomas time?”

“It’s always insult Thomas time!”

 “What the hell did I ever do to any of you guys?”

“Oh my god, Thomas, you suck!”

“I hate all of you…”

Reiner’s head was pounding almost as hard as his heart at this point, and that’s when he roared, “SHUT UP! I never said any damn thing about marrying Christa! So you can all—“

But then he stopped mid-sentence and widened his eyes as he finally remembered what he _did_ actually say. It had been during their conversation about everyone’s various strengths, and when they’d reached Christa, he’d said—

“Oh God, Bertl, I said she’d _make_ a good wife, not that _I’d_ ever marry her. Jeez. Is that really what you were upset about? Is that why you walked out?”

He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to ball his hands into fists and smack himself in the head from frustration. _This_ was what he’d tortured himself about so much over the past few hours? Some stupid miscommunication?

But then he realized that his first and foremost reaction was relief because now he finally knew how to clarify things.

“I swear Bertl I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t saying I wanted to marry her.  I’m not leaving you. Hell, you’re not leaving my sight until the day I die. Do you really think I’d just walk off after everything we’ve been through together? God. We’re still _trainees_ Bertl. Just when the hell did you think I’d be marrying her anyway? You’re such a smart boy so why would such a silly thing cross your mind?”

He peered down at the boy he was holding and as he did, Bertholdt peeled his cheek off of Reiner’s shirt. He’d begun to sweat again with his anxiety, and Reiner was almost relieved to see it. A sweaty Bertholdt was something familiar—maybe the only familiar thing right now. The sweating had never grossed Reiner out because it didn’t smell. In fact, sometimes it was kind of hot… But he yanked his mind away from that trajectory of thought in order to catch Bertholdt’s next words.

“Not leaving me?”

Reiner was so relieved to have finally pinpointed the problem.

“Of course not. Do I look like an idiot to you? Why would I leave the best person I’ve ever met?”

                Reiner realized he was treading dangerous waters here because he could feel his feelings for Bertl rising to the brink, ready to spill over, but he didn’t really care right now. He knew he had to completely erase the fears from Bertholdt’s mind so that any possibility of the boy’s tears would be a distant memory.

                A tentative smile began to tug at the edges of Bertholdt’s lips. “Never?”

                “Not ever,” Reiner confirmed.

                And now the smile was real, stretching out across Bertholdt’s face and melting Reiner’s heart. Bertholdt let his head fall back onto Reiner’s chest and buried his face squarely between the man’s magnificent breasts. He mumbled something Reiner was unable to hear, but it sounded happy.

                Mission accomplished. Now he just had to figure out what to do with this gorgeous drunk boy, preferably before either his heart stopped or he made a mess in his pants. He was even considering asking the annoying boys around him for advice, when the boy’s dormitory door flew open again and a rather terrifying looking Ymir stormed in.

                “Reiner!” she barked, sounding about ten times more terrifying than Shadis on his worst days, “What’s this I hear about you trying to steal Christa away from me?”

                There were several choruses of “Oh shit!” and one “Oh this is going to be good…” Reiner wasn’t sure who the voice belonged to, but he made a mental note to find the boy, and kick his ass once this whole situation was resolved.

                Reiner realized that his patience for anything else had run out the moment he’d seen the tears in Bertholdt’s eyes, and it made him a lot braver than he normally would have been when looking into the face of what nightmares were made of.

                “If you’d been here a minute earlier you would have heard that I have absolutely no interest in taking Christa away from you and—“

                “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ymir demanded, “Are you saying that my queen isn’t _worthy_ of your attention?”

                Reiner groaned. “Of course not. All I’m saying is—“

                “My beautiful flower is 100 times better than any boot scrapings _you’d_ ever manage to snag.”

                “Will you shut up? I’m not saying—“

                “I don’t need to hear the demands of some asshole who insulted Christa!”

                “Look, I didn’t insult her, all right?” Reiner shouted, his voice rising to a roar, “So why don’t you take your misplaced aggression, and shove it right up your—“

                “Ymir! Are you okay? I heard shouting and—what on earth is going on here?”

                Reiner heard Krista’s light worried voice and internally screamed. That was it. He was _never ever_ saying _anything_ about _anyone_ else ever again. It just wasn’t worth it, and if he’d ever thought this was going to happen he probably would have stuffed his foot in his mouth and never spoken a word again. And he was just about to express this opinion very loudly and very vehemently aloud when he happened to glance down and found the beautiful boy snuggled against his chest. Far from being disturbed by Reiner’s shouts, Bertholdt was still muttering something to himself as he rubbed his nose against the blonde’s chest. It was simultaneously the cutest and strangest thing Reiner had ever seen, and he wanted to throw Bertholdt down and do unspeakable things to the boy as payback—but thoughts like that could wait until he finished sorting out the situation.

                “ _Nothing_ is going on,” Reiner answered, trying to tone his voice down for the small blonde’s sake, “There was just a little miscommunication—“

                “Miscommunication my glorious left buttock,” Ymir snorted, “I just ran into one of the training officers who was telling over an interesting little story about how Bertholdt found him while he was holding an open flask in the mess hall, asked him for a swig, and then proceeded to get friggen trashed while he sobbed out some damn story about how you’re going to marry my Christa, and his whole life is going to be ruined. Are you really going to try to deny this happened?”

                Reiner looked down at Bertholdt once more who had started to hum a little song to himself that was interspersed with the words “boobs” “squishy” and “Reiner.” The boy couldn’t have been paying less attention to the proceedings if he tried. Reiner found himself smiling in spite of himself as he said, “No, I’m not going to deny that—“

“I knew it!” Ymir crowed, stomping toward him, “Prepare to die you over muscled giant excuse for a—“

“Ymir, no!” Christa shouted, throwing her arms around the girl’s waist.

“Stand aside, Christa, I need to show this punk that no one is going to steal you away from me while there’s still breath left in my body.”

“Oh for the love of…I’m not stealing her away, you crazy lesbian. So just…just take her and go the hell away _please_ before you scare Bertholdt.”

Ymir stopped and looked at the boy in question. Now he was poking Reiner’s left breast with his index finger and mumbling something about its name being Francis.

Okay, Reiner admitted, the boy didn’t look particularly afraid, but that could change at any second. Reiner had never had to deal with a drunk person before—never mind a beautiful drunk boy with a wonderful laugh and a smile that would crack his poor heard into splinters.

“What?” Reiner muttered defensively, his fingers instinctively tightening around the boy, “It could happen.”

Ymir rolled her eyes and pulled Christa to her side. “Come on babe, let’s give Gayner and his partner Boobholdt the privacy they’re obviously desperate to have.”

Reiner gave his body stern directions _not_ to blush, but failed miserably. He didn’t hear Christa’s response to Ymir’s comment due to his ears buzzing with embarrassment. Did everyone else read him as well as Ymir did? He certainly hoped not. Especially not while he had a vulnerable boy lying in his arms.

And speaking about vulnerable boys… Bertholdt re-linked his arms around Reiner’s neck and rested his forehead for the third time against Reiner’s. He seemed to be getting awfully fond of the position.

“I think Ymir is jealous of your boobs,” Bertholdt said in an extraordinarily loud stage whisper. Then he broke down into helpless giggles that Reiner was extremely put off by due to all the motions and vibrations thy caused against his already overheating body.

“How much alcohol did you have, anyway?” Reiner grumbled, choosing to ignore the remark. There wasn’t any way he could react to that one with dignity.

“I dunno,” Bertholdt said, before lifting his arms off of Reiner and holding his hands about a foot apart, “This much, maybe?”

Reiner certainly hoped the boy’s measurements were off because regardless of the uncharacteristic nature of the measurement, a foot worth of alcohol was still a hell of a lot of alcohol by anyone’s standards.

The motion seemed to throw Bertholdt’s already precarious balance off because then he was falling backward. Reiner wasn’t able to catch the boy in time, but when he hit the mattress Bertholdt merely fell to giggling again.

“Hey, you okay there bert—aaargh.”

The strange sound was not a new nickname he’d come up for his best friend, but rather the result of Bertholdt having yanked Reiner down to sprawl on top of him.

“Comfy, Rei?” Bertholdt asked around Reiner’s spluttering.

Not good. Once again he was far too close to Bertholdt, only this time it was worse because he’d managed to fall so that his hips were now pinning down Bertholdt, which was a _terrible_ position, because Reiner’s body hadn’t been able to keep its interest out of the proceedings, and it had decided to express said interest with a bit of surprise down under.

_Please don’t notice. PLEASE DON’T NOTICE_. Reiner begged mentally as he scrambled to get off of the boy.

Bertholdt noticed.

His eyes widened and then, bizarrely, he grinned and then reached over, his hand heading for Reiner’s crotch. “Reiner you’re—“

Reiner quickly grabbed the hand and yanked the boy up causing him to stumble off the bed and onto his feet. “C’mon Bertholdt, let’s get you ready you ready for bed,” he announced loudly, hoping to cut the boy off before he could shout the news to the world that Reiner had a hard on for the tallest, handsomest trainee in that year’s batch.

The ploy worked. Bertholdt forgot what he was going to say as his facial expression became one of horror. “What? Noooo! I don’t wanna go to sleep! I wanna have fun with Rei!”

Rei was only a nickname that Bertholdt used on very rare occasions, but apparently drunk Bertholdt was eager to use it all the time. Reiner wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but looking at Bertholdt, who was currently giving him big, wide puppy eyes, was giving him the urge to go slay a few Titans to regain some of his manliness.

“It’s late, Bertl,” Reiner said, going for a coaxing tone as he tried to lead Bertholdt toward the door, “Aren’t you starting to feel sleepy?”

Bertholdt dug his feet into the floor and refused to budge. For someone who was thirty pounds lighter than him, he sure could be tough to move, Reiner noted. “No!” Bertholdt harrumphed with a pout, “I want to spend time with you. I never get to spend enough time with you.”

Reiner couldn’t tear his eyes off the pout. He hadn’t thought Bertholdt capable of the expression, but now he was realizing just how wrong he was. The boy was a natural.

“What are you talking about?” Reiner asked, “I’m always spending time with you.”

“Yeah, when we’re with _other_ people,” Bertholdt objected, darting to the side to try and escape Reiner as he tried to grab hold of his arm again. The motion promptly made him keel over. Reiner raced forward and caught the boy before he could hit the ground.

“That’s not true,” Reiner grunted, as he righted the boy, and this time steered him toward the door with both hands held fast to his shoulders. He managed to get the boy through the doorway and out of sight of most of the staring boys in the dorm before the other boy answered. “It _is_ true. You don’t spend time with me like you used to. It’s not the same. Not like it was in the ware—“

Reiner clamped his hand over Bertholdt’s mouth before he could finish the word “warehouse.” Bertholdt began to shake his head vigorously beneath the hand until Reiner let go, but before he did, the blonde whispered, “Careful Bertl. You know we can’t talk about that place here.”

Bertholdt treated him to another version of the pout that was equally as swoon worthy as the first one. Reiner tried to remember how to breathe.

“ _Fine_ ,” Bertholdt snapped.

See, that was alarming right there, Reiner noted, Bertl never snapped at him. Well, he never snapped at anyone, but he _especially_ never snapped at him.

“But you _used_ to be a lot closer to me,” the beautiful pouter continued, “We used to talk about things more, and you were more relaxed around me—“

“I’m plenty relaxed around you,” Reiner interrupted, feeling his defenses rise as they skated around a touchy topic. He wondered when he’d become such a bad liar.

“No you aren’t!” Bertholdt exclaimed, yanking himself out of Reiner’s grip so he could whirl around and face him. “You stiffen up every time I touch you, and sometimes when you’re talking to me I feel like you’re addressing a stranger!”

Bertholdt stabbed his finger forward as he made his point, causing him to stumble forward again. Reiner shot toward him in order to steady him, but the other boy brushed his helping hand aside angrily.

“Bertl…” Reiner murmured, worry constricting his voice.

“You don’t even hug me anymore!” Bertholdt shouted, this time his voice shredded, because the wetness in his eyes was back, and now it was spilling over his eyelids, and god, Reiner thought miserably, I made him cry. I made this precious boy cry.

His arms went up and around Bertholdt in a crushing vise. “No,” he whispered, “Don’t say that.”

“Get off me!” Bertholdt shouted, “I don’t want your pity hugs!”

Reiner only held him tighter. “It’s not pity. It’s never out of pity when I hold you.”

“You don’t want me anymore!” Bertl protested, still trying to struggle, but his motions got weaker as his tears came down harder, “I know that’s the reason. You regret making me your friend. That’s why you said that thing about Christa, that’s why you don’t touch me anymore. That’s why—“

“For god’s sake, Bertholdt! Shut up about the damn Christa thing, okay? I don’t care about Christa. Not the way I care about you!” Reiner thundered.

He couldn’t understand how Bertholdt could have ever got such an idea into his head. Yes, Reiner was touching him less, and yes he avoided talking about his feelings—but those were for obvious reasons. They were to protect him from the feelings Reiner had for him. He wanted to _protect_ their friendship, because he knew that if he drove Bertholdt away he’d never forgive himself. Didn’t he see? Reiner thought, Didn’t he see how much he cared in every move and breath he took? Didn’t he see how his eyes were always trained on him? Didn’t he friggen see?

Reiner loosened his arms, but only enough to pull Bertholdt’s head back and grip him by the chin so that he was looking directly into his face. “You are so very important, okay?” Reiner said, his voice going raspy with barely suppressed emotion. “More important than any other person on this stupid crappy earth. More important than my own life. There’s not an hour that goes by that I don’t think of you. You are first and foremost in every one of my plans, and I will follow and support you no matter where you choose to go. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to.” He sucked in a huge breath and looked deep into those beautiful green eyes that had so captivated him since that very first moment. They were full of tears, but despite that they were instantly recognizable. “You are so damn important to me, Bertholdt Fubar, and you always will be. Do you understand?”

Bertholdt simply stared at him, as though mesmerized by the force of his words. Ordinarily, Reiner would have been happy to simply stare back, but this point was too important, and he wasn’t going to let the other walk away without this dreadful misunderstanding corrected. He let go of Bertholdt and this time tenderly cradled his tear stained face in his hands. “I said,” he prodded in a far gentler voice, “Do you understand, my Bertl?”

Bertholdt looked at him for one full second, unshed tears frozen in his eyes, before he launched himself at Reiner with a cry, leaping onto his body so that Reiner had to catch hold of him so that the boy wouldn’t go crashing to the ground. Bertholdt wrapped himself completely around Reiner, his arms around his neck, and his legs around the boy’s waist and sobbed “I understand” over and over into the blonde’s neck.

_I had to_ , he told his conscience, which was beating at him mercifully for revealing too much, _Bertholdt needed me. I don’t know how to do this anymore. I don’t know how to hide without hurting him._

And it was a real problem. Because he’d hurt him if he was honest, and he’d hurt him if he hid his feelings. He didn’t know what to do, but he decided to screw it all—at least for now. It wasn’t the time for logic. The boy he cared about most in the world was intoxicated, vulnerable, and miserable, and what he needed right now was all of Reiner’s support. This wasn’t about himself, he realized. He’d give Bertholdt whatever he needed right now, and would worry about what he was going to do in the future later.

With the matter settled in his mind, he felt himself relax, letting his guard down for the first time in what had to be years by now. There was great freedom in letting go of his worries. It was easy just to worry about Bertholdt. It was what he did best. He knew Bertholdt. He could do this.

Holding the boy securely with one hand, Reiner reached up with the other and rhythmically stroked the boy’s hair while murmuring comforting things to him. The change was pretty much instantaneous. Feeling Reiner relax, Bertholdt melted in his arms, going from sobbing wreck to pliant goo in the span of a few seconds. He reached up and rubbed at the tears on his face with his sleeve. Reiner carefully peeled away the strands of hair that had gotten stuck to the boy’s face, and then, after asking him if he felt steady, lowered the boy back to the ground. Bertholdt, though standing, still had his arms around Reiner’s neck. Bertholdt hadn’t caught his breath completely, and together with the alcohol, the words that left him in a rush were hard to identify, but Reiner picked up bits like, “Same for me,” “Most important,” “Care about you so much,” “Favorite person,” and “Forever.”

Finally, with a shuddering breath, Bertholdt felt silent, and this time when he lifted his face from Reiner’s shoulder he looked relatively stable. Reiner ran his hand through the boy’s hair, straightening it out a bit, before giving him a compassionate smile. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You’ll feel a lot better afterward.”

Now there was no resistance. Bertholdt nodded, already looking far happier than he had a minute ago as he took hold of Reiner’s arm as the older boy led him down the hall toward the bathrooms. They reached it without incident, and by the time Reiner pushed the door open, Bertholdt practically bounced inside. He was already smiling again, and the redness was already fading from his eyes. Reiner felt a great lightening in his chest as he saw the boy come back to the happy state of before.

Bertholdt brushed at Reiner’s shirt and said, “Sorry about the wetness, Reiner, I’ll wash the shirt for you, ok?”

Reiner felt light tingles dance across his skin where Bertholdt’s fingers brushed him. It seemed that taking his guard down had given his body back the natural sensitivity he had toward the boy’s touch. He felt warmth shoot through his body that was not unlike the initial effect strong alcohol could have. He wondered if he’d end up drunk off of Bertholdt by the end of the night.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Reiner said, taking the boy’s hand and leading him passed the sinks and toilets toward where the showers and baths were held.

Reiner knew that Bertholdt’s crying had no doubt made the boy’s sinuses a clogged up stuffy mess, and so had thought the idea of a shower would be the perfect way to remedy that. Only now, when he was actually standing in the bathroom with a very unsteady Bertholdt did he realize how badly he’d thought this through.

There was no way Bertholdt could do this alone.

That meant Reiner would have to help him.

That meant seeing Bertholdt naked.

And _that_ was a very bad idea.

Bertholdt didn’t seem to think so, though.

“I want a bath,” he announced.

Reiner helped the boy to the stool in the middle of the room and sat him down on it. “These bathtubs are huge—they’ll take forever to fill. I was thinking you could just shower off quick and then you’d be able to go to—“

“I want a bath,” Bertholdt repeated, crossing his arms over his chest for emphasis.

Reiner rolled his eyes, but smiled, “ _Fine_ ,” he said, trying to hold back his laugh as he headed over to the large tub meant for several people at once, and turned on both taps. The water began to gush out in a huge stream. Then he went to the other side of the tub where there was a second pair of taps and turned those on as well in a time saving effort. When he turned back around Bertholdt was humming and swaying slightly on his stool. Reiner had to hold himself back from tackling the boy and eating him.

Instead he walked toward him at a sedate pace and laid his hands on his shoulders. “Can you undress yourself, or do you need help?” he asked, eyeing Bertholdt’s complicated strap arrangement. Reiner had taken his own straps off after dinner time but it looked like Bertholdt had never gotten around to it. That only made this operation about eleven times harder.

In response, all Bertholdt did was lift up his arms, and smile at him expectantly.

Reiner let out a sigh, trying _not_ to reveal how perversely excited about this he was. _He’s drunk, you sick bastard_ he reminded himself _He’s trusting you to help him, not leer at him like some creepy old geezer._

Gently, he pushed his hands beneath Bertholdt’s armpits, and hoisted him to his feet. Then he spun him carefully around and began to attack the buckles on the shoulder harness.

“Remember when we could never get these on ourselves?” Bertholdt asked, looking over his shoulder at Reiner with a grin.

Reiner told himself to keep concentrating on the straps and not to give into the urge to pull the boy’s face close and press a kiss to his nose. He remembered the beginning very well. They’d had a diagram for the straps and Bertholdt and he had taken turns trying to figure out how to strap the other in properly without much success. “Oh god, we didn’t get it right for _weeks_ ,” he answered. “Remember that time we were doing laps and my straps just fell right from my hips to my ankles because you hadn’t tightened them enough?”

Bertholdt laughed and leaned back into Reiner. This prevented Reiner from undoing the straps, but for some reason he was having trouble minding in the slightest. “You fell right on your face,” the younger boy added gleefully, “It was like a tree falling.”

Reiner laughed and gave the boy’s shoulders a light squeeze, “Yeah, and you were too busy _laughing_ to help me up. Some friend you are…”

The sound Bertholdt let out was a rather evil cackle. Considering the fact that Reiner hadn’t thought the boy had an evil bone in his body, the sound was a little alarming. Apparently Bertholdt thought so too because he attempted to negate the effect by twisting back even farther and brushing his lips across Reiner’s Jaw. “Sorry Rei,” he said sweetly, “But it was the first clumsy move you’d ever made. How could I _not_ laugh?”

Not a word of what Bertholdt said had entered Reiner’s brain because he was far too busy having an internal meltdown over the kiss Bertholdt had clearly just given him. _He kissed me. He really did. And right near my mouth too._ He thought, instinctively raising a hand to touch the spot. It seemed beyond strange that all he felt was smooth skin, because the skin felt like it was on fire.

He may have marveled over the situation for all of eternity had Bertholdt not nudged him in the head. “Hey! Don’t fall asleep Rei! Not when we’re having so much fun!”

Believe me, he wanted to say, there is zero chance of me falling asleep when your fingers are anywhere near my body. He was aching all over with the need to hold the boy, but he knew if he gave into that urge he might not be able to stop there. So with a pained exhale he opened his eyes, which had fluttered closed, and looked at the curious and adorable Bertholdt peering up into his face. The boy poked him again. And then again. Before he could do it a fourth time, Reiner got his finger in his hands with a spluttered, “What are you doing?”

Bertholdt giggled. “I like touching my Reiner.”

Reiner felt like he needed to bash his head against the wall until he slid into unconsciousness because he didn’t know how else he was supposed to handle Bertholdt saying things like that.

_I love touching you too,_ he internally groaned, forcing his hands to go back to the straps before he seized tight hold of Bertholdt in other places. _You have no idea what kind of effect you have on me._

He managed to slip off the shoulder harness, and had just knelt down to get started on the straps on the boy’s hips, when Bertholdt decided to torture him some more. He reached down to where Reiner was crouching and slipped his hands into the blonde’s hair.

“So soft,” Bertholdt said happily, running trails with his fingers across Reiner’s sensitive scalp.

Reiner bit down on his lip and forced himself to remain silent. _He’ll stop soon_ he reassured himself as fiery tingles raced across his scalp _He’ll get bored and stop. Just don’t say anything. Don’t make any noises. Don’t—_

Reiner let out a low groan, his head falling against Bertholdt’s stomach. Bertholdt’s fingers stopped, and then gently pulled Reiner’s head back. “You okay, Rei?” he asked, brows knitted with concern, “Did I tug at it too hard? I’m sorry. My fingers feel so clumsy right now. I--”

“No, no,” Reiner said quickly, pulling away and attacking the straps once more, ducking his head to hide his burning cheeks, “You’d have to pull a lot harder to hurt me.”

He thought that was the end of it. He was wrong.

Once more Bertholdt’s hands found his hair, and this time he began tracing patterns in the other’s scalp. Reiner had never felt such gentle touches from anyone. How could such gentle touches make such a huge impact on him?

“No one can hurt my Reiner,” Bertholdt said confidently, “Because he’s the strongest.”

_You’re hurting me right now_ Reiner mentally disagreed as Bertholdt’s fingers smoothed themselves down to the nape of his neck _you have the power to hurt me more than anyone else._

“Mikasa’s the strongest,” is what Reiner said instead, finally slipping the last of the straps free from Bertholdt’s hips, causing the harness to snake down his legs and hang from where the straps were still pulled tightly against the boy’s thighs.

“Nope,” Bertl disagreed, plopping himself back down on the stool and spreading his thighs to allow Reiner better access. The view that presented to Reiner was one far too provocative for his poor sanity, and the blonde was ready to weep from it. _Can you at least_ try _to be less effortlessly sexy?_ Reiner internally begged as he drank in the sight helplessly. “I say you’re the strongest,” Bertholdt continued as he leaned back and opened himself even farther, completely unaware of the effect he was having on the other boy.

Reiner’s fingers were itching to just ignore the damn straps and simply rip the remaining clothes from the Boy’s body so that he could bury his face in everything that was Bertholdt. He realized his mouth was dry. He tried to swallow, but it felt like there was something stuck in his throat. His eyes were glued to the boy’s crotch, and even though he knew that was something he needed to change _right now_ he couldn’t find the self-control to tear his eyes away. He wanted to touch and taste the boy everywhere, and he meant _everywhere_. He’d never felt the hunger this strong, and now that he was facing it, seeing it for what it really was, he knew he’d never escape it again.

Reiner clenched his hands into tight fists, letting the pain of his nails digging into his palms bring him back to the present.

“But she’s beaten me in every training session we’ve taken,” Reiner said to the other boy, impressed that he was sort of managing to keep up with the conversation.

Bertholdt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands, “Not in the strength exercises. You beat everyone at those, and you always will.”

Reiner wished there was some way to take an instant portrait of the way the boy in front of him was sitting, but he settled for burning the adorable image into his memory instead. Bertholdt leaned over still further and wrapped one of his hands around Reiner’s bicep. “Your muscles are the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” Bertholdt mumbled in awe, squeezing Reiner’s arm. The boy’s long fingers couldn’t quite wrap around it all the way. Normally Reiner wouldn’t have felt a flush of pleasure at being called _pretty_ , but Bertholdt was allowed to say things that others weren’t. He’d always be the exception to the rule.

“Even though I’m taller I feel so small next to you,” Bertholdt admitted, tugging at Reiner’s arm and pulling him closer, “You’re bigger than everyone else. I checked. No one is stronger than you. None of them even come close.”

Once more Reiner found himself flushing, and it wasn’t just because Bertholdt had pulled them too close again. The idea of Bertholdt checking all the other people he came across and comparing them to him as a standard—and then saying they all failed to hold up to him…

Reiner felt like he’d need more than an ice cold bucket of water to the face to get himself back to normal.

“I don’t even think those in the elite squadrons can measure up to you,” Bertholdt said, and then he tumbled into Reiner’s arms. He’d leaned forward so much that he’d lost his balance, but he didn’t seem to mind. He latched onto Reiner happily enough.

Reiner had a problem, and the problem was that he was rock solid in his pants, and he hadn’t even _done_ anything to make it so. He had no idea how he was supposed to go even farther than this. He already felt like he was at his limit. His panic made him slightly rough as he reached down and unclipped the rest of Bertholdt’s straps. He was trying _not_ to think about the fact that his hands were all over Bertholdt’s sculpted thighs, but he wasn’t very good at that particular mental exercise. His hands were getting clumsy in his haste, because he was trying to finish this as quickly as possible. But because of this, the recoil as one of the straps suddenly gave caused his hand to shoot back up and graze over Bertholdt’s crotch. His initial instinct was to apologize profusely for what was clearly an accident, but the words died in his head as he realized something very significant: Bertholdt was hard as well.

He wasn’t anywhere near as hard as Reiner. In fact, the most that could be said was that he was semi-erect, but this was still enough to put poor Reiner in a state of perpetual crisis. He dropped his hand as if scalded, but tried to play it off as if he hadn’t noticed. But he had noticed, and it was very difficult to un-notice it.

Bertholdt, of course, hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, and when the last of the straps slid from his body he held his hand up for a high five. “Great job, Rei,” he gushed, as if Reiner had saved all of humanity from a titan invasion instead of what he’d _actually_ done—which was nearly kill them both doing a task that shouldn’t have taken over 30 seconds.

Reiner, who had temporarily forgotten human language, nevertheless brought his hand up to smack Bertholdt’s. However, instead of letting it go as a high five, Bertholdt linked their fingers together tightly. “Reiner,” he murmured, letting his head fall to the other’s shoulder, “I feel funny.”

Reiner’s worry for the other boy was enough to snap him out of his treacherous thoughts. “What is it?” he said quickly, letting his hand drop to the top of the boy’s head, “Does your stomach hurt? Do you think you’re going to throw up?”

Bertholdt shook his head as he wrapped his hands tightly around Reiner’s body. His fingers caught handfuls of the back of Reiner’s shirt. “No. Not pain. I just…I feel hot. All over. I feel like I’m burning.”

Reiner’s anxiety jumped up several notches. He quickly placed his hands against both Bertholdt’s cheek and neck. “Is it a fever? Do you want me to get you some medicine?”

But even as he asked the question he felt puzzled because yes, the boy was warm, but he wasn’t _that_ warm.

Bertholdt shook his head once more and pressed himself against Reiner even more firmly. “No.  It’s _inside_. The heat. And my chest. It feels tight.”

Reiner was baffled, but he wanted not to be. He could almost always understand what Bertholdt needed, but right now he was clueless. He gently began to extricate himself from the boy’s hold, but, sensing imminent separation, Bertholdt clung to Reiner even tighter.

Reiner felt panic for several reasons, but the main one was that, drunk or not, Bertholdt was sure to feel Reiner’s erection pressed up against his leg this way. “Come, Bertl,” he said quickly, “Let’s get you in the bath. That’ll make you feel better. I’m sure of—“

“No. Want Reiner.”

“I’m not going anywhere. So why don’t you—“

“No!”

The boy’s fingers knotted themselves so strongly in the blonde’s shirt that Reiner was surprised it hadn’t ripped yet. He gave up, and wrapped his own arms around the boy. “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m right here.”

Bertholdt buried his face in Reiner’s neck and let out a content sigh. Reiner tried to think of the most unsexy things he could in an effort to get his erection to wilt, but no thoughts of his were more powerful than the feel of Bertholdt’s body against his. His heart had ramped itself back up again, as had his guilt at treating the hug as anything more than something between friends.

He rested his head atop Bertholdt’s, feeling the boy’s hair tickle his nose, and tried to focus on calming his breathing as he rubbed soothing circles into the boy’s back with one of his hands. He hadn’t been doing this for more than a minute when he heard Bertholdt groan. At first, he thought he himself had let slip the sound by accident. But then he realized the source belonged to the gorgeous boy in his arms. His heart beat in sympathy and he pulled the boy a little tighter. “Tell me where it hurts. Is it your head? Your stomach?”

Bertholdt let out another groan in response, though this time it sounded like Reiner’s name. Reiner bit his lip as anxiety raced through him. And then he remembered something important: water. Alcohol dehydrated you. Not drinking enough water would lead Bertholdt to experience symptoms like headaches, nausea and dizziness. With a jolt, he pulled away. “Oh god, Bertl, I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.”

He quickly set the boy back down on the stool despite his protests, and rushed toward the sinks. He took one of the glasses set on the shelf there and quickly filled it with cold water from the tap before rushing back to his friend. He sank down beside Bertholdt, and offered him the glass. “Drink this, okay? It’ll help.”

Bertholdt shook his head and tried to push the glass away, already reaching his hands out for Reiner. But Reiner stopped him by gently pressing his hand to the other boy’s chest. Remembering something about his friend’s personality, he said, “It’ll make me so happy if you drink it. Won’t you drink it, Bertl? For me?”

Bertholdt stopped, his eyes widening. Reiner had to suppress a smile. One of the reasons Reiner loved the boy was because of how much Bertholdt genuinely cared for him. He’d go to great lengths just to accomplish something that would bring Reiner a small happiness. Like the time he’d snuck into the kitchen to get Reiner something to eat because he had accidentally slept through breakfast, or the time he pretended to be sick the same time Reiner was so the boy wouldn’t be lonely when he missed training. Reiner had learned that he could pretty much convince Bertholdt to do anything so long as he managed to phrase it in a way that made it sound like Bertholdt was doing him a favor, and that’s precisely what he did in this case. And Bertholdt fell for it: hook, line, and sinker.

The taller boy reached for the glass, and Reiner helped raise it to the Bertholdt’s lips, not wanting the boy to spill all over himself. Eventually Bertholdt drained the glass, and Reiner set it down on the floor with a feeling of triumph. Then he glanced toward the tub and noted with surprise that it was already more than halfway full. This whole undressing Bertholdt thing was taking him a lot longer than should have been possible. At this rate they’d be up all night.

With renewed purpose he turned toward his friend. “Let’s get the rest of this stuff off,” he said gruffly, trying to sound businesslike as he reached for Bertholdt’s shirt buttons. _It’s just clothes. You take off clothes every day. You can do this_ , he coached himself sliding shaking hands from button to button. He fumbled several times but eventually got through the entire line without much incident. _See that wasn’t so bad_ , he thought _, now you just have to push it off of those gorgeous shoulders and down those arms and…oh god, he’s so damn hot. His abs are even more beautiful than the last time I saw them. I’m going to cry. And—shit…is that a new mole? How can a mole be so cute? How are they allowed to be so cute? How is he so cute? I can’t do this. I can’t. Oh god. I need help_.

But there was no one around to help, so Reiner had to brace himself further as the shirt dropped to the floor and revealed the most beautiful torso he’d ever been blessed to see.

_He’s your friend_ , he reminded himself _, and friends don’t dream about licking lines down the other’s chest_.

This should have been a rather obvious fact, but he found himself needing to remind himself of it regardless. For the first time in his life he could understand a Titan’s urge to eat another human. Because he wanted to consume the boy in front of him. To lick and bite and taste him until there was nothing left.

_You’re clearly deranged and I feel bad for anyone who knows you_ , he scolded himself, and dropped between Bertholdt’s legs to reach for the boy’s belt. His fingers paused when his hand was still several inches away. _Come on. You’ve seen him naked before. Plenty of times. It’s the same as then. You can handle this._

He couldn’t handle this.

Reiner stood frozen for so long that Bertholdt reached down himself and grabbed his belt buckle. “What’s wrong?” he asked, “Is it stuck?” But then after some fumbling the boy got it open and pulled the leather free from its loops. “Woohoo! I got it!” the drunk boy shouted before playfully hitting Reiner with the end of the leather strap.  “I am the man!” he cried, swinging the belt above his head and nearly keeling over backward as a result.

Reiner grabbed the belt and gently tugged it free as he chuckled. “You certainly are,” he agreed, before forcing his hands to Bertholdt’s fly. He thanked every deity in existence that he got the button open on the first try because he couldn’t imagine going through the gesture more than once. He quickly tore his hands away to a safer spot on Bertholdt’s hips, and gently eased the pants down the boy’s legs. When he got to the boy’s ankles, he allowed Bertholdt to kick them off.

And then there was no avoiding the last hurdle.

Reiner looked at Bertholdt’s underwear and felt the beginning symptoms of a panic attack.

_No_ , he finally decided, _just no._

He was willing to do anything for his friend, but he knew better than to trust himself with this. He lifted Bertholdt to his feet and led him toward the bath. Forget it. Bertholdt could bathe with the damn things on. The world wouldn’t cease to exist if he did. Only when Reiner lifted the boy and began to lower him into the water, Bertholdt began to giggle uncontrollably while spluttering, “Silly Reiner! You forgot these.” And then, without even waiting for the blonde to let go of him, Bertholdt reached down and tugged off his underwear—all with much wriggling of his hips and happy laughter. Reiner was pretty sure his head broke after that.

Bertholdt tossed his underwear over them both where it hit the floor a good ten feet away. Reiner forced himself to look directly at Bertholdt’s face to prevent his eyes from wandering anywhere they shouldn’t. When the boy was settled in the water, Reiner let go of him and turned to look for the soap. But then, right when he was bending over at his most vulnerable, Bertholdt gave him a strong tug around his waist that caused Reiner to overbalance and fall into the tub with a loud splash.

He came up spluttering, water streaming into his eyes from his hair, and whipped around to find Bertholdt laughing his ass off. “Isn’t the water lovely?” Bertholdt asked, holding his stomach from his laughter, “I thought I’d invite you in.”

“Bertholdt you little shit…” Reiner growled, but never finished his sentence due to Bertholdt splashing a good fifth of the bath water into his face. This set Reiner spluttering once more, and he reached forward blindly to grab hold of his friend in order to stop the assault. He grabbed hold of Bertholdt’s wrists and yanked the boy toward him. And it was only when the boy’s clearly naked and soaking body was pressed against his did Reiner remember the circumstances he was in.

“Crap,” he muttered, dropping the boy’s arms quickly and drawing his hands up against his chest guiltily. But it wasn’t just his own desire to touch the boy that he had to worry about—there was also Bertl himself.

Bertholdt launched himself at Reiner and sent them both crashing into the water. “Swim with me!” he cried, latching his arms over Reiner’s head once more.

“This isn’t a pool, Bertl, we can’t—“

“Look, Rei! I’m a dolphin!” Bertholdt exclaimed as he filled his mouth with water and then shot it into Reiner’s face.

“Please, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Reiner pleaded as Bertholdt kicked his feet and splashed every inch of the bathroom.

“And now I’m a shark!” Bertholdt cried and attacked Reiner, sinking his teeth into Reiner’s neck.

It was just a playful bite—it didn’t break the skin, but Reiner cried out as if it had due to the sharp jolts that went through his body from Bertholdt’s touch.

Bertholdt, mistaking the blonde’s cry for pain, quickly pressed his lips to the abused spot. “There! All better!” he declared.

It most certainly _wasn’t_ all better. Because the wet naked boy who was crawling all over him wasn’t doing anything for Reiner’s erection problem, and now it was made even more obvious due to the fact that his white pants had gone translucent from the water and were now clinging to him like a second skin. Thankfully Bertholdt was distracted by other things.

“Oh my god, Rei, let’s have a bubble bath!” he crowed, seizing the shampoo bottle and emptying half of it into the water. This actually wasn’t a half bad idea, because hopefully the bubbles would do something to obscure Reiner’s problem, but despite that he reached over and grabbed the bottle from his friend’s hands before he could empty the entire thing.

“Hey, we still have to wash _you_ , don’t we?” he reminded the boy, “Save some for yourself.”

Bertholdt laughed and splashed Reiner again, “Only if I get to wash you too,” he bargained.

Reiner shrugged “Yeah, all right.” After all, he thought, the situation could hardly get any worse.

He was wrong.

Bertholdt lunged for him and began to attack the buttons on his shirt.

“Wait! What are you doing?” Reiner cried.

“Can’t wash you if you’re dressed, silly,” Bertholdt said, hands frequently slipping from the buttons into the sudsy water.

“I thought you meant my hair!” Reiner objected, pulling Bertholdt’s hands off his front.

Bertholdt gave him the strongest version of his pout yet. “But that’s no fun!” he muttered.

_It’s not supposed to be fun_ , Reiner thought, though he realized he was wrong. Because despite all the heart wracking anxiety caused by both his forbidden feelings, and his worry for his friend, he actually _was_ having fun. Because he was spending time with Bertholdt, and that was his favorite thing to do.

Bertholdt took the shampoo bottle from Reiner and poured some of the goop into his hands. “Close your eyes,” he directed the blonde with a smile, “I don’t want it to get in your eyes.”

Reiner bit his lip, but did as he was told, mentally preparing himself to feel of those wonderful hands. Once again, Bertholdt’s fingers were gentler than Reiner would expect of a drunk boy, and he felt himself melting beneath them from the first contact. He let out a happy sigh and leaned into the touch.

“You like it?” Bertholdt asked, delight clear in his voice as he scrubbed shampoo onto the blonde’s hair. Reiner murmured his assent, smiling contentedly as Bertholdt concentrated on his task.

It was by far the best experience he’d ever had in a bathroom, and Reiner never wanted it to end. However, soon Bertholdt was scooping handfuls of Water onto his hair in order to rinse it, and Reiner regretfully opened his eyes, sad for the experience to be over. But then he remembered something that put a smile back on his face: it was his turn.

Reiner pulled Bertholdt into his arms and nudged the back of the boy’s neck with his nose. “Your turn to close your eyes,” he whispered to the boy. He realized that his control was getting worse. He was getting too touchy, and he could hear the love that poured from his voice in every word. He had to get ahold of himself, but he wasn’t sure how.

He felt Bertholdt sink into the pocket of his body with a happy little sound before snuggling closer until there wasn’t an inch separating them.

_This is it_ , Reiner realized _, This moment is perfect. I never want it to end._

But it would end. He knew it would. Tomorrow when Bertholdt woke up, sober, and probably hung over, things would go back to normal—with Reiner being frustrated and afraid to scare Bertholdt away. He wrapped his arms around the other briefly and squeezed. It was hard to accept that they couldn’t have this all the time.

“ _I love you_.”

The words slipped out of Reiner’s mouth before he even realized he’d spoken aloud. And they were true. The way his insides throbbed as he spoke was a testament to that, and so he wouldn’t regret them. Wouldn’t ever regret saying them to this boy.

Bertholdt merely sighed and snuggled in closer, causing Reiner to relax.

_He didn’t hear me_ he thought, feeling a mix of both disappointment and relief. He knew he should be grateful, but he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to live in a world where Bertholdt knew of his love for him. But he shook the thought from his mind and got back to work. He squeezed some shampoo into the palm of his hands and then carefully began to rub it into the boy’s hair, kneading his scalp gently as he worked his way over every spot.

Bertholdt let out a soft groan, and the way he leaned into the touch notified Reiner that the sound wasn’t one of pain. He smiled, happy that his touch could give the boy pleasure.

“Feels so good, Rei,” the boy breathed, slipping a little lower in the water.

Reiner thought his heart would burst from happiness. It had already been working overtime since Bertholdt had showed up. Reiner was just surprised that it had lasted this long.

Finally, after he had no excuse to continue scrubbing at Bertholdt’s head anymore (he’d gone over every spot at least three times) he had to admit that if he kept going it would only be for the sake of his perviness. So he stopped and reached his shoulder back in order to grab the hanging shower head. He turned it on, checking the setting of the water with his hand, and then, when it was at the perfect temperature, gently began to wash the soap out.

“Keep your eyes closed, okay?” Reiner murmured, “I’m almost done.”

Bertholdt just smiled and began to gargle the water as it ran into his mouth.

Reiner combed his fingers through the boy’s dark hair until every trace of soap was gone and then leaned back to replace the shower head. Only when he turned back around he saw that some of the bubbles were on Bertholdt’s chin.

The boy made a deep exaggerated frown and then, in a barking angry voice that was far removed from his _actual_ voice, shouted “You poopnuggets think you’re going to the military police? Ha! By the time I get through with you you’ll be nothing but little smears beneath my boot heel! 10 trillion laps around the field! Now!”

Reiner stared at Bertholdt, and then, when he realized just who the boy was doing an impersonation of, burst out laughing.

Bertholdt grinned and stroked his fake bubble beard.

“That is,” Reiner said between breathless laughter, “The absolute _worst_ Impression of Shadis I’ve ever seen.”

Bertholdt looked deeply and irrevocably offended. “What? You obviously mispronounced _best_.”

Reiner grinned and swiped at the bubbles on Bertholdt’s chin. “Give me that. You don’t get to have the honor of wearing his beard.” And so saying, he slapped it on his own chin.

“That’s it!” Bertholdt cried, fighting a grin before leaping at Reiner, “Prepare to die!”

“Threatening your superior officer?” Reiner roared, going for his best impersonation of Shadis’s voice (which sucked because he was trying so hard not to laugh) as he grabbed hold of Bertholdt’s arms and began to wrestle with him, water splashing everywhere, “You’ll be lucky if you’re able to eat though a _straw_ by the time I get through with you. Forget any plans of joining the army, you’re heading straight for the hospital! Seven million laps, on your hands, around wall Maria and don’t even _think_ about taking a break or I’ll whip your ass so soundly that you won’t be able to sit comfortably for the rest of your insignificant and disappointing life!”

“Noooooo!” Bertholdt wailed, throwing his arm over his face dramatically, “My poor bottom can’t stand that kind of abuse!”

“Too bad, you worthless excuse for a soldier. No one cares about what you want. I _own_ you until you graduate—that is, _if_ you graduate, which I’m not too sure about. Who knows? You might be mine forever.”

A wicked grin spread like lightning across Bertholdt’s face. No longer playing the part of the gutless trainee, he leaned forward from where Reiner had him pressed against the tiled wall of the tub and murmured, “But isn’t there _anything_ I could do to help you change your mind about punishing me?”

His voice had sunk almost an entire octave deeper, and he was looking directly at Reiner with guileless intent.

The blonde forgot how to breathe. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could hear his blood roaring in his ears. That face, it was…lewd. There was no doubt in Reiner’s mind what the other boy was referring to. Even as a joke it was mesmerizing. As he watched, the smile on Bertholdt’s face grew wickeder as he sensed victory.

Reiner was just clearing his throat to take a stab at some kind of retort when a new, and highly unexpected voice boomed through the air.

“What, in the name of all that is decent are you two fuckers doing?”

Both Reiner and Bertholdt’s eyes widened tremendously as they heard the voice of the very real, very pissed off Keith mother-flippen Shadis.

And that was when Reiner knew what real fear was.

“I’m passing by the bathroom on my way to do the nightly check ins, and I hear shouting.”

Each word, as it left Shadis’s mouth, came out as a sibilant hiss.

“And I think to myself, who would dare be _stupid_ enough to stay out past lights out?”

Every cell in Reiner’s brain was telling him to run. But he couldn’t. He was the only thing right now standing between the boy—the very naked boy—he loved, and the murderous looking head instructor behind him. He had to stand his ground.

“So then I decided to investigate, and what do I find? Two randy homosexuals getting it on in the BATHTUB!”

He shouted the last word so loudly that the very walls around them seemed to shake.

“Now I don’t care where or what you little tit flickers decide to stick in each other on your own time, but don’t for a second think that you cow shits are going to do it even the moment after that fucking light goes out in your dormitory!”

Reiner was pretty sure the blood had frozen in his veins, and he was certain that was a bad thing that required his attention, but more important than that was to somehow intervene so that they didn’t have the stuffing beaten out of them and then hung out as a warning for the others. And he had to do that now.

“Please sir,” he said, trying to sound both firm and polite at the same time. He knew this was a tough stretch seeing that he currently had his soaking wet ass pointing in the man’s general direction, but he had to try. “Bertholdt and I weren’t doing anything of the sort.”

Shadis looked at him for a long moment, as if wondering if Reiner were actually even stupider than he already thought he was. Reiner could see his point as he had never thought himself suicidal enough to talk back to the man, but he’d do it for Bertholdt’s sake if there was even a slight chance that it would help any. But then the instructor opened his mouth and found his words. “Do you think I’m _blind_ Braun? Or just plain stupid?”

“Uh, I don’t think either of those things, Sir. I just thought I’d—“

His speech was interrupted as Shadis crossed the small wet space between them, grabbed Reiner by his sopping shirt, and yanked him around to face him. “You thought? You _Thought?_ Listen up here, Braun, you were not brought here in order to _think_ anything. You’re here to listen to the damn rules I give you. Because I am a hell of a lot smarter and more experienced than you are, so if I say something, you better bet your donkey fisting ass that it’s the truth, because I. Am never. _Wrong_.”

Reiner couldn’t find anything to say—not with Shadis this close to his face, and practically breathing fire at him. But then it was Bertholdt behind him that came to his rescue. He popped his head over Reiner’s shoulder and said.

“But sir, you _are_ wrong. At least this time you are, because Reiner wasn’t screwing me at all. Believe me, I would have noticed if he had been.”

Ordinarily Reiner would have been right proud of Bertholdt for sticking up for himself. But not now. Not to _Shadis_ of all people.

Shadis himself also looked stunned, but Reiner knew he wouldn’t be for long. And that’s why he had to fix this _right now_.

“Please Sir,” he begged, pulling his body up higher to completely shield the boy behind him, “He didn’t mean any disrespect. He’s drunk sir. You can see that. You know that the regular Bertholdt would never have said anything like that to you. Please, it’s not his fault. He was really upset at me, and it caused him to drink. And I take full responsibility for that, Sir. I didn’t mean to take us out past curfew, but he really was upset, and I thought he needed to be cleaned up properly before I could put him to bed. Please just let me get him to bed and asleep and then you can punish me as you see fit. I won’t complain about anything or object to anything you have in mind, just please let me do this for him. I wouldn’t ask if it was anyone else, but it’s Bertholdt, Sir.”

Reiner left out the last part of the sentence: “And he means everything to me” because he was sure Shadis could get it from the context, as well as from the look in his eyes.

The instructor looked at him closely for several long seconds that felt like forever.

“Fine,” he finally grunted, loosening his grip on Reiner’s shirt and taking a step back, “But take him straight to bed. I don’t want to hear any more shouting, or giggling from either of you.”

Reiner felt lightheaded as sweet relief swept through him. “Thank you so much, Sir,” he gushed, “You have no idea how much I appreciate—“

“Just get the fuck out of my sight already,” Shadis sighed.

“Yes, Sir,” Reiner said quickly, offering up a quick salute before he turned to Bertholdt, grabbed the boy under the armpits and lifted him up to a standing position.

“Up you get, Bertl,” he whispered, guiding the boy out of the tub, and trying to remain calm for his sake, “Careful, don’t slip.”

When Bertholdt’s feet were safely planted outside the tub, Reiner climbed out himself, feeling a good ten pounds heavier due to the weight of the water on his clothes. Gripping the boy’s arm, he guided Bertholdt over to the rack of towels near the wall and quickly snagged two, draping one over his friend’s shoulder, and using the other to dry his hair.

“This ain’t a damn beauty parlor, Braun,” Shadis snapped, “Just take him and get out.”

Reiner knew he was really pushing his luck, but he still chose to speak. “Please Sir, if I don’t dry him he might catch a cold.

And that’s when he saw the instructor roll his eyes for the first time. “Oh for god’s…Well dry him quickly then.” He snapped before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “damn flamboyant brat” under his breath.

Reiner counted himself lucky.

When he finished with Bertholdt’s hair, he tossed the towel aside and began rubbing down Bertholdt’s body with the other one. Thankfully, the terror instilled by Shadis’s presence allowed him to complete the task with less heart stopping perversion than it normally would have held. When he was certain the beautiful boy was basically dry, he hitched the towel securely around Bertholdt’s waist, and tucked the corner of it into the top.

Bertholdt rewarded him with a shy sounding “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Reiner whispered, giving the boy’s shoulders a quick squeeze before taking him by the arm and leading him to the door. Once he got to the doorway he paused and turned around. “Good night Sir,” he said to Shadis, “and thanks once again. I won’t forget this. Do you want me to report to you in the morning for my punishment?”

Shadis looked at him, and the copious amounts of water he was leaving on the floor with his dripping body, which he’d totally forgotten to dry as well (he’d been very concentrated on Bertholdt) before the instructor pushed the fingers of his hand against his forehead and let out one last sigh. “Forget it. Just go. But remember, if I catch you pulling this sort of stunt again I’m going to take a garrote wire to _both_ your throats.”

A disbelieving smile spread across Reiner’s face. He really did seem to have all the luck tonight. “Thank you so much sir,” he breathed.

A deeply annoyed sound left the man’s throat, but the look he gave Reiner was not unkind. Reiner decided to leave before it could disappear. He offered one more salute and then led Bertholdt out of the bathroom.

He pulled Bertholdt along until he figured they were out of hearing distance before whispering, “I can’t believe we’re still alive.”

Bertholdt began to laugh, and then clapped his hand over his mouth in order to stifle the sound. “He must have liked your impression of him so much that he decided to save killing us for a different day.”

This time it was Reiner’s turn to stifle his laugh, “Shit, Bertholdt, that one was totally your fault. Impersonating Shadis…what on earth were you thinking?”

“You did it too,” he said, again with that shy smile that Reiner was familiar with.

“Yeah, well, your craziness is rubbing off on me too, I guess.”

“You’re just sore because my impression was better than yours.”

Reiner let out a derisive snort. “In your _dreams,_ you little bastard.”

“Hey, there’s nothing little about me.”

“Yeah, I kind of saw that in the bath,” Reiner replied, so caught up in their light hearted banter, that he let slip the inappropriate comment without any thought.

Of course once he heard it out in the open air he immediately flushed, and wanted to sink into the floor and die, but Bertholdt only laughed. “Always nice to be appreciated,” he muttered and ducked his head adorably. Despite the chewing out they’d just received from their instructor, Reiner was still tempted to push Bertholdt up against the wall of the hallway and kiss him breathless. Of course he didn’t do it for obvious reasons.

A moment later, Bertholdt leaned into his side and tugged at the hold Reiner had on his arm. Surprised, Reiner let go, and when he did, Bertholdt slid the newly freed fingers into his own and linked them together.

Reiner was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven because he hadn’t thought he’d ever hold Bertholdt’s hand like this again. They’d done it several times when they’d just met over six years ago, but they’d been just kids then. Now…Well now Reiner couldn’t help feeling that it meant something different.

He was already having difficulty remembering his own name, but then Bertholdt once again made it worse.

“Thanks for protecting me in there,” he whispered, once more with a ducked head. Reiner could see twin spots of pink on the boy’s cheeks, “You always do, and I never thank you enough.”

Reiner could attest very loudly to the fact that this wasn’t the truth. Whenever Reiner did _anything_ for the boy, Bertholdt made sure to thank him sincerely for it. But Reiner couldn’t find it in him to say anything but to mutter, “It was nothing.” He was sure he was blushing as well. Though to make sure Bertholdt understood that he wasn’t brushing him aside, he squeezed the boy’s hand meaningfully.

“I always feel safe when I’m with you,” Bertholdt breathed, giving his hand a return squeeze just before they entered the darkened bedroom. There was only the tiniest bit of light coming in through the window that was given off by the moon and a single torch that was lit somewhere off in the distance, so it was necessary to put all their concentration into not bumping into anything. Only Reiner couldn’t concentrate, because he’d just realized something.

He hadn’t had to support Bertholdt at all on their way over here. The boy had walked steadily the entire way.

And that wasn’t all. When Bertholdt had first thrown the door open he hadn’t shown hesitation or unsureness toward any action, no matter how strange. But then as they’d been walking back Reiner had seen the boy acting shyly, and very in line with his more usual level of behavior. And his way of speaking had gotten to the point where he sounded pretty much like his regular self.

_Holy flying crap!_ Reiner thought to himself as the realization hit him: Bertholdt was sobering up.

This knowledge was so distracting that it consumed his entire mind, causing him to collide violently with a bunk bed.

“Shit!” he whispered as his head exploded in pain. Bertholdt, who had been leading him by the hand, was wrenched to a halt. Though he quickly flew to the blonde’s side after he heard the collision.

“Reiner! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” he whispered frantically.

Even though his head felt like it had just split open, Reiner could hear the sobriety in Bertholdt’s voice.

_When_? He demanded of his brain. _When did he start sobering up_? But though he quickly tried to wrack his brain, he couldn’t come up with a precise solution. They’d been so relaxed around each other that he hadn’t thought to start questioning a turning point in the boy’s behavior. He tried to look for hints, but then when he settled on one, he groaned. After he’d finished drying Bertholdt, the boy had given him that whispered thank you. He hadn’t been paying that much attention because of Shadis, but now that he looked back on it, he could have sworn that Bertholdt had been blushing while he’d been drying him off. Damn it. That meant that his unguarded behavior had been plain to see because he hadn’t been trying to hide anything.

Bertholdt tugged Reiner’s chin up in an attempt to examine the boy’s head where Reiner was holding it, the darkness coating everything making sight nearly impossible.

“I’m fine,” he muttered as ginger fingers brushed over the sore spot, trying to feel if there was any blood, and then, when Bertholdt didn’t seem to be appeased by this, Reiner added in the barest of whispers, “You know everything will be healed over in a minute. I’m completely fine. I already feel it fading.”

Bertholdt let out, what sounded to Reiner, to be an anxious snort. “Yes, but that doesn’t prevent any of the pain,” he whispered back, stroking the spot gently. Reiner was glad for the darkness because it hid his highly embarrassed reaction from the world. As Bertholdt pressed closer, he felt the wetness of the blonde’s shirt.

“Oh god, I forgot that you’re in those,” he said in reference to the clothes, “You have to get out of them before you catch a cold.” And in so saying, he grabbed Reiner’s hand again, with zero hesitation, and began to tug him gently toward the beds they shared side by side.

His pain was completely forgotten. He couldn’t get over the fact that he was now holding hands with what appeared to be a Bertholdt who sounded as sober as he was.

Thankfully, it appeared that their entrance hadn’t woken any of the room’s sleeping occupants. After several more seconds of careful room traversing, they made it to the edge of their beds. By now Reiner’s eyes had somewhat adjusted to the absent lighting, and he could see Bertholdt’s outline pretty decently. He was sure this was true of his friend as well because Bertholdt had always had the better pair of eyes. His friend expressed this by turning swiftly once they’d come to a spot, and putting his hand to Reiner’s shirt. His long fingers closed around the next unopened button and slipped it open before moving onto the next one.

By that point Reiner had caught onto the idea that Bertholdt was planning on undressing him, and he began to splutter incoherently.

“Oh,” Bertholdt whispered, immediately snatching back his hands, “Did you want to do it yourself? I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I—of course it’s weird if I—“

“It’s not weird if it’s you,” Reiner blurted, barely remembering to keep his voice to a whisper as he, once again, stuck his foot in his mouth. He had lost count of how many times he’d already done that tonight.

Bertholdt didn’t move, and by the sound of the boy’s quickening breathing Reiner could guess that he was probably blushing. He wasn’t the only one. He felt like a complete idiot. He might as well have painted a “totally homo for you” sign and hung it around his neck for all the difference it would have made. But rather than run screaming into the night, Bertholdt didn’t race away. In fact, he took a step closer and raised his hand back to Reiner’s shirt.

Reiner held his breath in disbelief as the boy’s hands, shaking slightly this time, slipped open the next button of his shirt. The lightheadedness was back, and Reiner would have sworn he was dreaming had everything not felt so very real in that moment.

Bertholdt continued to slip the buttons open silently, one by one, while Reiner tried not to hyperventilate. He already knew his breathing was shooting out of him far too fast to be natural, but he didn’t dare try to speak aloud with some kind of excuse because of the fear that it would somehow break the spell hanging over them right now.

_This isn’t happening,_ Reiner thought, bewilderment seizing complete control of his mind, _This can’t be my life. I’m not this lucky. I’ve never been this lucky_.

But despite these thoughts, it was very clearly happening, and as Bertholdt slipped the last button open, he slowly lifted his hands and then pushed gently at the sodden fabric on Reiner’s shoulders. Carefully, Bertholdt peeled the shirt off of the blonde’s skin, and pushed it down his arms until finally gravity did the rest, and it slid from Reiner to the ground, landing with a muted plop.

When Bertholdt began to bend over to retrieve it, Reiner found himself speaking once more. “Leave it,” he directed.

Reiner could feel his heart pound loud enough to fill all the surrounding space with sound. All of his skin, both the parts Bertholdt had touched, as well as everything else, was burning like it was covered in white hot flames. The desire and yearning he’d been holding back and denying for so long refused to remain unacknowledged anymore. It was pounding on the inside of his heart demanding to be let out, and it was damn furious that it had been held back for this long.

Reiner wasn’t sure if it was the words or the tone of his voice that did it, but Bertholdt stopped and then straightened back up, keeping his eyes on Reiner the entire time as he did so.

Reiner could feel himself being drawn closer to Bertholdt. It wasn’t a nice little gentle tug. It was as if there was a meat hook implanted in his navel that was being jerked forward, and if he tried to resist it things would turn gory.

Everywhere was this roar of sound even though the room was entirely silent, and it significantly increased in tempo when Bertholdt took another step toward him. They were so close now that Bertholdt’s bare toes as well as Reiner’s socked ones were almost touching, and Reiner could feel the fanning of Bertholdt’s quickened breaths across his face.

“Bertl,” he choked out, needing to say the name, needing to say a hell of a lot more he didn’t know if he could manage. His shaking hands came out, needing to touch so badly but not knowing what was allowed and what he could handle. He wasn’t sure he could handle any of it. Not even the touches he used to give the boy—this boy of fire who made everything burn and become so much more. He would definitely be engulfed in the flames if he touched him, it might consume all of him—but it didn’t bother him because he _wanted_ to be consumed by the boy. Wanted him to be his whole world as he had been for so long. It would hardly be a difference to be consumed just a little bit more, right?

And convinced of this, Reiner finally let his hands touch the boy’s face, his fingers sliding over the grooves of his cheekbones and moving back to cup it gently.

“Bertl,” he said again, but this time in a whisper so low it was nothing more than a puff of air.

But Bertholdt heard it. He’d always been able to hear Reiner when others couldn’t.

“I’m here,” the boy answered, leaning into the touch—leaning in to _Reiner_. “I’ll always be here.”

Reiner’s entire frame was trembling as he fought to keep in control. Tried to fight this feeling that was violently shaking him from the inside out. And he was failing. Because Bertholdt was wrong. He wasn’t strong. He was incredibly weak, and his greatness weakness was standing right in front of him.

They shifted forward once more, unconsciously, each seeking the other’s space, and now they were all bumped together, their hips nudging each other’s and their chests finding the other. They were so close, and yet it wasn’t close enough—couldn’t be close enough for Reiner whose every cell was crying out to be smothered in the other boy, needing it far more than he’d ever needed anything else. It was a hunger greater than he’d ever faced—more so even in the week he hadn’t had a single bite to eat and his stomach had been threatening to eat itself. So much more hungry than that time.

And then Bertholdt was angling his chin down, or was Reiner pulling it down for him? Reiner didn’t know. He wasn’t conscious of what was his doing and what was Bertholdt’s, and the roaring was only getting louder and louder. It was deafening. And there was nothing else in the world but the burning, and the feeling of Bertholdt’s face in his hands. But then their noses grazed each other’s and that single point of contact added so much more, and Reiner was almost sobbing at this point because it was so much and he was straining against himself so hard.

And then there was breath, hot and needy against his mouth, and then he was lost. His body gave the last bit and then he was gone. His shaky lips met another pair—the only other pair in the world. Soft and oh so gentle—so gentle that it would break him—he pressed his lips to that pair, and it was everything.  Absolutely everything and worth so much more than everything else that had led him to that point. And now he was finding it more than a hundred fold harder to control himself when he wanted to just snap and leap on him with bruising intensity, needing and wanting to crush this boy to himself—to make him a part of himself. To hold him so hard that their bodies were one and there was no separation, just a world that was all him and Bertholdt and pleasure and pain.

But he couldn’t. No. He couldn’t do that.  He had to take control. Had to pull back before he was lost. And so only a moment after that sweetest of light pressures, he pulled back. But he couldn’t pull back much. He didn’t have that sort of strength within him. The most he could manage was an inch, and even that was tearing at his heart. And it was too much. The empty air hanging between them after that brief and perfect moment of connection was too much, and then he sobbed out a desperate question in the form of a name—the name. “Bertholdt?”

And then there were hands. Not his own. Far more perfect than his own, that found his face and pulled it back, pulled it closer, breaking that devastating inch between them. “Yes,” Bertholdt whispered against his lips.

And that’s when Reiner snapped.

It was too much to take in that Bertholdt was accepting this. That he was allowing what Reiner had wanted for so long, that he was pulling him forward—closer—pulling him in for a kiss, Bertholdt himself saying that the lines they’d established between them didn’t matter anymore. The idea that Bertholdt might want what Reiner wanted was too much for him.

Reiner’s hands, so gentle up until now, became clamps on Bertholdt’s head, one fisting a tight handful of the boy’s hair while the other tugged him by the back of the neck—closer—closer, as close as was possible. And then he attacked his mouth, kissing him with the kind of violence only long strangled desire could produce. He was drowning in this, drowning in Bertholdt, and he never, ever wanted it to stop.

Out came his teeth and his tongue, biting and sucking at Bertholdt’s lips, needing more, needing everything that Bertholdt would give him. And Bertholdt gave. His mouth opened to Reiner’s, giving him free reign to take anything he wanted, giving him a soft moan of encouragement that was all Reiner needed.

His tongue, when it met Bertholdt’s almost triggered utter collapse, because he had never thought something could feel this good—this _strong_. But Bertholdt wasn’t just allowing Reiner to take. He was giving as well. His hands didn’t stay gentle and complacent. They became desperate, maybe even as desperate as Reiner’s, as they tried to fist his brutally short hair, and yank him closer, always closer. Their hips collided with a crash—hard enough to bruise, but it wasn’t close enough. One of Reiner’s hands slid down to the small of Bertholdt’s back and pushed him closer, their hips grinding together as he used all the strength his body contained to just shrink the distance between them.

“Rei,” Bertholdt cried into his mouth, the sound more desperate than Reiner had ever hear him utter, “Rei!”

And Reiner swallowed the cries, taking them down and returning his own, kissing the boy like he would sacrifice anything for it. Wrapping him up so tightly that he was surely leaving marks all over the beautiful boy’s skin. But the sounds Bertholdt was letting out weren’t sounds of pain—or at least, ordinary pain. They came from a deep need inside of him, and Reiner recognized it, because he housed the same feeling deep in his own stomach.

“Please,” Reiner begged, not even knowing what he was asking for—everything, maybe, as his hands and arms pulled Bertholdt into his body, always pulling him forward.

“Yes,” Bertholdt answered, the sound nearly drowned in their mouths, but Reiner heard it, and the word lit up every important piece inside of him and healed it, “Yes, always.”

_Always_.

That was a very strong word. It was a forever word. And just trying to contemplate the idea of it made Reiner dizzy. But yes, even if he didn’t understand it, the answer was definitely yes. He’d never been so sure about anything but Bertholdt. He could handle anything so long as it was with Bertholdt by his side.

And he needed to tell that to the boy. There was so much that Reiner hadn’t told him. But it could wait, couldn’t it? Because his body was so insistent about what it wanted, and it wanted Bertholdt with the kind of intensity that would kill a weaker man. Even Reiner’s own heart—strong and indestructible as it was with its ability to heal—felt like it would explode from this want. And it only escalated when he felt two of Bertholdt’s long elegant fingers shove themselves down the front of his sodden uniform pants, and grip the band tightly, his intent a universally clear one.

But though the motion inflamed Reiner to new heights, it also brought some of his logic careening back into his brain. He remembered the promise he’d made to Shadis to put the boy straight to bed, and he highly doubted that this was what the man meant. Bertholdt, as sober as he was acting, couldn’t be 100% back to himself yet. Reiner had a feeling that his titan shifting abilities were partly responsible for how fast Bertholdt had processed the alcohol, but he could debate the strength of that theory another time. Yes, he wanted Bertholdt—wanted him like a dying man. But the want came from a deep and abiding love, and it was that love for the boy that caused him to very gently pull the fingers free from his pants.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Bertl,” Reiner whispered without letting go of the boy.

Bertholdt froze, and in that freezing motion Reiner detected bucket loads of shock and hurt, so he quickly rushed to remedy it.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” he said quickly, smoothing back the precious boy’s hair, “I want to. I want you desperately Bertholdt, I swear. I have for the longest time—“

“So then why—“

“Because you deserve better than that, Bertholdt,” Reiner answered, “Because you are the most precious and important person in my life and I want to do right by you. I don’t just want to fuck you, Bertl. I want so much more than that. And so I’m not just going to get in some desperate sex while you’re still intoxicated—“

“I’m not! I swear I’m sober! You can take my consent with a clear conscience!”

“So you’re saying that you’d go and operate 3dmg right this minute, and perform just as cleanly and precisely as you usually do?” Reiner asked.

Bertholdt only paused for a tiny moment, but it was long enough for Reiner to get his answer.

“I’d be fine. I could operate it. Really I could, I’m not lying, Reiner, so—“

Reiner pulled the boy’s head to him once more and pressed his mouth to that splendid pair of lips once more. He kissed him wholeheartedly for one long moment, and when he pulled back with a gasp for air, he was smiling. “I know. I feel it too, Bertholdt, I want you more than I’ve  ever wanted anything else, and you can’t even know the kind of happiness I’m feeling now that I know you want me too—but you said it yourself. We have always. Every night for the rest of our lives. I’ve had these feelings for a very long time, and they’re not going to go away with the light the sun brings, so if you still want me when you wake up—“

“Of course I will! I’ve felt this way for—“

Reiner placed a gentle hand over the boy’s mouth and chuckled. “Like I said, if you still want me, I’ll be more than happy to fulfill any and all fantasies you might have cooked up over the years. You can wait that long, can’t you? I just can’t stomach the idea of taking advantage of you when you might be vulnerable. I know you’re convinced that’s not the case, but are you willing to wait for me Bertholdt? Will you do that for me?”

Honestly, Reiner wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep at this whole “You’re obviously doing it for my sake” trick. He knew Bertholdt was bound to figure it out sooner or later, but apparently now was not that time, because Bertholdt’s eyes softened and when he touched Reiner’s face it was with aching gentleness. “I’ll wait as long as you need. I’m sorry about rushing you. It’s really important to me too. I want it to be perfect.”

Reiner tilted his head to the side so he could brush his lips across the pads of Bertholdt’s fingers. But then Bertholdt hit his cheek with the very lightest of slaps and then gripped his chin meaningfully. “But it _will_ happen,” he said, voice very nearly a growl.

Reiner always took great delight in seeing Bertholdt break out, even briefly, of the forever polite cage he kept himself in—but he doubted he’d ever enjoyed it as much as he did now.

“I swear on my life,” Reiner promised, his eyes tattooing the words into Bertholdt’s skin.

Bertholdt shivered at the deep intent in Reiner’s eyes. Then he slipped his arms around Reiner’s body and laid his head down on his shoulder. Reiner gathered the boy close and kissed the top of the boy’s head.

“Sleepy?” he asked gently.

“Exhausted,” Bertholdt answered truthfully, “And my head feels like someone’s stepping on it.”

Reiner chuckled, but stroked the boy’s head sympathetically, “Alcohol doesn’t agree with you, huh?”

“Alcohol my ass, I’m pretty sure I was drinking maneuver gear fuel,” Bertholdt grunted, melting against Reiner, “Certainly tasted like it.”

“And how would you know that?” Reiner challenged, his heart feeling so light he was afraid it would simply float out of his chest.

“From that idiotic dare you gave me our first week of training, don’t you remember?” the boy said, half growl and half laugh.

Reiner’s eyes widened and then he let out a bark of laughter that was far too loud for people who were supposed to be whispering, “Oh god, I’d forgotten about that. I can’t believe what an abusive friend I am.”

“Neither can I, most days,” Bertholdt teased, lifting his head and brushing his lips against Reiner’s jaw. His lips lingered for a moment before he drew away and then he pressed the tips of his fingers to the spot. “I can’t believe I’m allowed to do that now,” he whispered in awe, gently stroking the spot. Reiner, though in full agreement, found his throat too full for words, so instead he turned his head and kissed the boy’s lips, trying to express everything he couldn’t with words. He gently cupped Bertholdt’s cheek as he pulled the boy’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it lightly. The boy’s mouth was definitely the best thing Reiner had ever tasted, and he knew he’d get lost forever in it if he wasn’t careful. But he wanted just a few more moments with it before he’d inevitably have to pull apart, and he wanted to make the most of them. So he wrapped his arms around Bertholdt, nearly bending the boy in half by the waist as his passion increased, and he kissed him with all the love and happiness in his heart—which there was a heck of a lot of, and would have occupied Reiner for quite some time had one of his hand’s not slipped a little lower and found something missing.

Reiner froze as his hands found only deliciously smooth skin as far as his fingers could see.

“Uh, Bertl,” he said once he’d parted the boy’s mouth with a gasp, “Where’s, uh, where’s your towel?”

Bertholdt, who was still mouthing along Reiner’s jaw, didn’t miss a beat. “Somewhere on the floor, probably,” he replied, flicking the tip of his tongue against Reiner’s earlobe.

Reiner, who was trying to resist becoming ridiculously turned on by the motion, continued, “Um…and you’re okay with that?”

Bertholdt chuckled, and Reiner was struck by the fact that laughs were _not_ supposed to sound that sexy. “Pretty okay with it, yeah,” he replied.

Reiner was pretty sure his brain was busy hemorrhaging as it tried to comprehend the fact that he was holding a _naked_ Bertholdt.

Bertholdt pressed closer, twining his arms around Reiner’s torso as he whispered, “God, your muscles will be the death of me.”

Reiner was beginning to feel like death by nosebleed was how he was going to go by the end of the minute because, holy crap, if Bertholdt was naked, and was  holding absolutely nothing, then that meant that the burning object that was poking into his thigh was exactly what he thought it was.

“You don’t, er, think they’re too much?” Reiner asked, praying he wouldn’t explode in his pants. That would be beyond embarrassing at this point, but he was afraid it was an all too real prospect. He was actually interested in the answer of his question, though, because although he was thankful for his body’s ability to get him through grueling training, he had always held a niggling doubt that his beefcake status fell somewhere on the grotesque side of the spectrum.

“Are you kidding me?” Bertholdt said with a laugh, “It’s the most beautiful body these training grounds have ever seen. Everyone thinks so. Even Mikasa is jealous of your abs.”

Reiner felt his face flood with heat from the compliment. “I only care about what you think,” he muttered self-consciously.

Bertholdt pressed one more kiss to Reiner’s neck before raising his head to smile down at him. His hands slid down Reiner’s well sculpted chest admiringly. “Well _I_ think,” he said, his fingers grazing across Reiner’s nipples teasingly, “That you are the most handsome man I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.”

Reiner let his face sink to Bertholdt’s shoulder, embarrassment leaking out of his every pore. “I feel the same way,” he muttered, ears burning.

“About yourself?” Bertholdt teased.

“About _you_ , silly,” Reiner corrected, nuzzling into his neck.

Bertholdt snuggled into Reiner for one intimate moment before slowly disentangling himself. “Come,” he whispered, “I really am worried about you catching a cold in these wet clothes. Take them off okay? I’ll get your pajamas.”

He pressed a kiss to Reiner’s shoulder and then turned toward the man’s bed.

Reiner felt the emptiness in his arms like a physical ache, but it was okay, because Bertholdt wasn’t going anywhere. He’d promised. And Bertholdt had never broken a promise to Reiner.

“Don’t forget your own, you little bastard,” Reiner said with a grin, because as much as he loved the idea of a naked Bertholdt, there was no way he was going to hold himself back from screwing the boy into the mattress if he didn’t conform to some version of modesty.

He fumbled briefly with the button of his pants before popping it open and sliding the material down his legs. Reiner reached down and pulled off his sodden socks, letting them drop to the floor with the thought that he’d worry about them in the morning, before standing back up and hooking his thumbs into the waistband in his underwear.

He felt the back of his neck burning, and glanced up briefly to find Bertholdt’s eyes boring holes into his skin.

Reiner laughed. “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he reminded the boy.

“You make it sound like your body is something I could ever get used to,” Bertholdt countered.

Though there wasn’t anyone else in the world Reiner would want to show his naked body, he still felt self-conscious as he pulled off his sodden underwear and kicked them to the side. The main reason for this was because of his non-flaccid status in the general genitalia region.

Seeing it, Bertholdt let out a deep groan. “God, I would ride you like the stallion you are,” he whisper-moaned.

Now Reiner’s face wasn’t just burning with embarrassment. He could feel his entire body flush and tingle all over. He reached up, and snagged the pajama bottoms held in Bertholdt’s hands, and slipped them on before he could yank Bertholdt on top of him and see if the boy’s words rang true.

Bertholdt, thankfully, had already donned his pajama bottoms as well, which made things slightly easier to handle. The taller boy smiled at him, and then slipped under the covers of Reiner’s bed. “Coming?” he called out like the adorable little shit he was.

Reiner took the time for a moment just to visually appreciate how much he enjoyed the idea of a bare chested Bertholdt in his bed before climbing in himself. The whisper of bed clothes quickly gave way to the tight heat of Bertholdt’s body. Reiner pulled the boy into his side and buried his face in his hair. “You are _perfection_ ,” he whispered into the strands as Bertholdt twined their legs together.

Bertholdt let out a content little sound and buried his face in Reiner’s chest. “Your _boobs_ are perfection,” the boy corrected.

Reiner laughed and began to run his hands down Bertholdt’s back in soothing strokes. “You mean to tell me that that particular opinion wasn’t just alcohol inspired?”

Bertholdt shook his head vigorously, his nose rubbing against Reiner’s chest. “No way. They’re gorgeous. All of you is gorgeous. I’ve wanted to put my hands all over you for years. You hit puberty _ridiculously_ early.”

Reiner’s lips twitched up into a smile, but the meaning behind the teasing words hit him hard. “You really wanted me?”

He just found the words so hard to believe. For so long he’d felt guilt over being a freak—for wanting this beautiful boy over any woman. He’d tortured himself with this truth, pushing it down and trying to ignore it, all while he wanted and pined and felt miserable for feeling these things that threatened their friendship. He had never, not once, considered the idea that he might not be the only one that felt this way. He’d been an anomaly—he’d been sure of it. But now Bertholdt was saying these words—words that completely turned Reiner’s world around and scrubbed at the idea that maybe he wasn’t such a freak after all.

Bertholdt sighed, peeking up at Reiner’s face and looking at him through those gorgeous dark lashes of his. “Yes. Very much so. And you better start believing me because I don’t like the idea of you doubting my feelings.”

Reiner blushed a little harder and mumbled an apology. Bertholdt laughed, and pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could face Reiner better. “Okay, I think this will illustrate my point, and I have just enough alcohol left in my system to tell it over bravely without dying of embarrassment.” He ruffled Reiner’s hair briefly before continuing. “Do you remember the weeks before we started training? You were so pumped up about being a soldier, it was adorable, and I was so happy you were finally going to be able to do something you wanted. But you were worried about the training, wondering if your body would be prepared to handle it, so you began training all the time.”

Reiner chuckled at the memory. He certainly had been nervous about not measuring up, but Bertholdt had told him that if he couldn’t’ measure up to the training than Bertholdt himself definitely wouldn’t be able to measure up, and then they’d just flunk out together. The boy had meant it as a tease, but it had been a great comfort to Reiner. The idea of failure didn’t seem so bad if Bertholdt was there in it with him. “I remember,” Reiner said, prompting the boy to continue.

Bertholdt smiled and ducked his eyes down briefly in embarrassment. “Well I remember it was one of those really hot summer days, but you were still insisting on training, so there you were, lying on the ground in just a pair of shorts, your whole body glistening with sweat—and god, it was such a beautiful body. You had chest muscles that no boy your age could ever have hoped to compete with, and I was completely mesmerized. I just wanted to climb on top of you, and touch you absolutely everywhere.”

Reiner felt his breath catch. In his mind he was back in those days, over two years ago now. He’d already been in love with Bertholdt then, and it was astounding to think that Bertholdt may have felt it too.

“Do you remember that day?” Bertholdt asked, “I came in with a pitcher of water, and after I saw you I dropped, and shattered it. Does that bring back any memories?”

Reiner _did_ remember. The pitcher had been one made of orange clay and after he’d dropped it, Bertholdt had apologized profusely, blushing and ducking his head for far too long for a simple broken pitcher. Reiner smiled at the memory, feeling a deep rush of affection for the boy.

“I dropped it because I was far too distracted by the thought of you digging your hands into my hips, yanking my hair back and taking me roughly from behind as I screamed out your name,” Bertholdt admitted, “And that was _not_ the first time that idea had occurred to me.”

To say Reiner was shocked by the confession was an understatement.

“What? But—you—Bertl—you weren’t--?”

“What? The ridiculously innocent boy you’ve always thought me to be?” Bertholdt asked, smiling as he flicked Reiner’s forehead, “No. Sorry. I’m a horny little bastard when it comes to you. I’d tell you how many times I’ve jerked off to the thought of you, but I lost count forever ago.”

Now this really was too much. He knew he never gave Bertholdt enough credit. It’s not that he’d thought the boy too pure for sexual interaction—he just hadn’t thought the boy’s thoughts would be directed toward himself, that’s all. The fact that Bertholdt had fantasized about them making love—had even  got off on it—was a little too much to compute right now.

Bertholdt laughed at the bewildered expression on Reiner’s face, and settled his head on Reiner’s chest, pushing his knee up between the blonde’s legs. “Don’t worry. I’ll try to make reasonable demands of your body so you don’t have to walk around in an exhausted haze all the time—but I’m not making any guarantees here.”

This kind of talk would kill Reiner. He didn’t know how he was expected to hold himself back with such a gorgeous and willing boy squirming slightly over his erection and whispering at him suggestively. He reached down and stilled the boy’s hips, “If you keep doing that I’m going to come in my pants,” he admitted, “And these are my last clean pair of pajamas.”

Bertholdt made a sound almost like a purr. “You’re not very good at dissuading me, you know.”

“Bertl…” Reiner growled.

Bertholdt laughed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “What happened to your other set?” he asked.

Reiner blushed, but forced himself to look down at Bertholdt regardless. “I might have had a dream about you.”

Bertholdt lifted his head from Reiner’s chest and looked at him with the sexiest most evil grin he’d pulled yet. “Tell me about it,” he urged.

“No way,” Reiner said in flat out refusal, “Way too embarrassing.”

“Oh come on, I told you _my_ story, didn’t you?”

“I haven’t had a foot worth of alcohol,” Reiner reminded him.

Bertholdt smacked his chest, but when that didn’t yield any results, he chose instead to reach down and grip Reiner firmly by the waistband of his pants. “Tell me, or these are coming off,” he threatened.

Reiner let out an indignant snort. “You don’t play fair,” he muttered.

“Never said I did,” Bertholdt pointed out, giving the waistband a suggestive tug.

Reiner sighed. “It wasn’t very creative as far as these dreams go. There were your hands—they were everywhere, burning my skin, scraping across it, making everything feel so hot it was almost painful, and then…”

Reiner paused, embarrassed to go on, but Bertholdt prompted him to continue. “Okay, so there were my glorious hands. What else?”

“Your mouth,” Reiner admitted, “On my—“

“Huge fucking dick,” Bertholdt interrupted, looking far too pleased with the way Reiner jumped in shock.

“Bertl!” he scolded, surprised and yet turned on by Bertholdt’s forceful language. There was something about profanity in the mouth of one so publically quiet that was making his blood run hotter in his veins.

“What?” Bertholdt asked cockily, “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“I’m not _that_ big,” Reiner mumbled, covering his face with his hands.

“Easy for you to say. You won’t have it stuffed in your ass tomorrow,” Bertholdt said with a laugh.

The hands covering Reiner’s face weren’t enough. He turned his face to partially hide it in the pillow. Bertholdt was offering himself to him. To join his body with his.

“You don’t have to do that,” Reiner muttered, making himself say the words even though they were embarrassing, “Bottom, I mean, don’t feel obligated to—“

“Believe me Reiner, I speak entirely through self-interest,” Bertholdt assured him, tugging at the hands on Reiner’s face. “And don’t hide your beautiful face. I was enjoying the view there.”

Reiner let go of his face, but it was only so that he could gather the gorgeous boy up in his arms and squeeze him tight enough to pop his kidneys. “I will never be able to do enough good to deserve you,” he whispered into the other’s hair, “You make me happier than anyone else ever could.”

Now it was Bertholdt’s turn to flush, but instead of answering he simply squeezed Reiner back for endless moments.

Holding Bertholdt was perfection. Reiner felt no anxiety, no self-doubt, and no anger or sadness when he was holding the boy like this. He wanted to remain like this forever, because he knew he’d never get bored holding this boy, and the pure simple joy the motion brought him had never been matched by anything else in his life. But the real world was one of responsibilities, and he couldn’t just let them slide because of how good and warm Bertholdt felt in his arms.

He shifted slightly beneath the boy and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Come, let me get you some more water. It’ll help in the morning.”

Bertholdt laughed and merely tightened his hold around Reiner further. “If you think you’re going to get me to let go of you for something as unenticing as water then I’m going to need to ask you how long you’ve been suffering under these delusions.”

Reiner rolled his eyes, and lightly smacked the boy’s ass. “I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too,” Bertholdt answered, settling himself even more securely around Reiner, “And I’m not moving. You know what’ll happen if you go out there? Shadis. And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to let you go out there and risk being castrated before I even manage to take the merchandise out for a ride.”

Reiner let out a spurt of laughter. He knew that if he was a better person he would have insisted on getting up anyway. But he was a weak person when it came to the boy in his arm, so with a low groan he sank down into the mattress, and let his body mold to Bertholdt’s as if it had been created to fit there. Bertholdt nuzzled into his chest, and then it was quiet but for the sounds of their breathing and the slow happy rhythm of Reiner’s heart. His mind was becoming fuzzy from warmth and everything that was Bertholdt. He realized that he was exhausted too. The worry as well as the emotional rollercoaster he’d put himself through tonight had drained him of his energy. But his mind was brought instantly back into high alert with Bertholdt’s next words.

“I love you too,” Bertholdt mumbled, his lips grazing the muscles of Reiner’s chest.

Reiner stopped breathing.

“What?” he whispered.

Bertholdt twisted his head back to look up at Reiner. “When you told me in the bath. It made me so happy. I just wanted to say that I love you too.”

He’d heard him. He’d heard his confession and it had made him happy. Bertholdt was happy that Reiner loved him. That was more than Reiner had ever expected. More than he’d ever hoped to dream for. But he’d gotten more than that. He’d gotten everything. Because Bertholdt returned his feelings. Bertholdt loved him, maybe even as much as Reiner loved the boy.

And that’s when Reiner’s expression cracked and broke. “Impossible,” he choked out. “There’s no way…”

Reiner’s head was snapped up as Bertholdt seized tight hold of it, his eyes suddenly filled with anger.

“Listen here, Reiner Braun,” he hissed, “I love you. I love you a thousand times more than I’ll ever love anyone else. Have for a very long time now. And I can take a lot of your crap. But don’t you dare accuse me of harboring fake feelings. That’s one thing I won’t allow.”

Reiner could understand Bertholdt’s anger, and he wanted to explain that he hadn’t doubted _him,_ he’d doubted the world’s ability to give him the one thing he’d most wanted. He didn’t think one man could be allowed that much happiness.

But he didn’t say this to Bertholdt. He wasn’t going to question it. Even if he didn’t deserve it, even if he didn’t see how it was possible, he wasn’t going to question it because he was too damn happy that it was the truth.

“I love you,” he gasped, pulling Bertholdt close and crashing their mouths together, kissing the boy with everything he had. This seemed to appease Bertholdt’s anger, and he kissed Reiner back, allowing Reiner to push his deep feelings into him—to tell him all the things his paltry use of language could never express.

Finally it was Bertholdt who pulled away, breathing heavily. He lifted Reiner’s hand and pressed it against his bare chest. The skin there was hot and flushed and beneath it his heart thundered like a stampede of hungry trainees toward the lunch line.

“It’s going to explode,” he gasped, referring to the hammering organ, releasing Reiner’s hand and collapsing beside him. “If we don’t plan on going any further you need to give me a chance to calm down or I’m just not going to stop. Ever.”

The idea of not stopping was an extraordinarily enticing one, but with a tortured moan, Reiner pulled the pillow out from under his head and slapped it over his face. He too knew he had to calm down though that was far easier said than done.

Bertholdt laughed at the pathetic figure Reiner cut in the bed beside him. “If it’s so bad Mr.  Pillowface I can go back and sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Reiner bolted up in bed like his ass was on fire. He grabbed Bertholdt’s hands, slammed them over his head and straddled him, leaving him no possible means of escape. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, “You’re never sleeping in a bed without me again.”

Bertholdt grinned and arched upward into Reiner’s hips, “I was bluffing,” he said unashamedly, “And if I knew you’d have reacted this way I would have done it far earlier.”

Reiner leaned down over Bertholdt and nipped at his top lip before rolling off of him with false grumpiness. “Piece of shit,” he grumbled from his side, facing away from the gorgeous boy he had to try very hard not to screw.

“ _Your_ piece of shit,” Bertholdt corrected, rolling up to fit against Reiner’s back and throwing his arm over the boy’s shoulders. Reiner leaned back into him and tried to convince himself that the spooning they were clearly exhibiting right now was still manly in a way.

Bertholdt pressed a kiss to the back of Reiner’s neck. “I’ve never seen you blush as much as you did tonight. It was adorable.”

“Please just go the fuck to sleep,” Reiner begged, blushing even harder.

Bertholdt cackled and Reiner threatened to hit him with the pillow. This led to Bertholdt questioning the other’s aim, which Reiner didn’t take to all that well, and then somehow this led to them making out again, and Reiner got a handful of Bertholdt’s ass, and it was the most glorious experience of his life before he finally tore himself away and lay gasping on his back wondering how on earth his meager human body could feel this much.

They lay side by side on the bed, hands clasped between them.

“We really need to go to sleep,” Reiner said regretfully while his mind tried to find words to describe how Bertholdt tasted.

“I know,” Bertholdt answered, not sounding any happier about it than he did.

“Training tomorrow,” Reiner added, as if this was something different than what happened every day.

“I know,” Bertholdt said once more, pulling Reiner’s arm over his stomach and snuggling into him.

“God, I love you,” Reiner whispered. And that’s when Bertholdt craned his neck back and planted the softest and sweetest of kisses onto his lips. “I know,” he whispered back for the last time that night.

They were both silent after that, though neither fell asleep right away. But the warmth that curled over them both and the reassuring sound of the other’s heartbeat as they drifted off guaranteed that the time between wakefulness and unconsciousness was perfect.

The first thing that Reiner became aware of was warmth. Wonderful blessed warmth. A lazy smile curved across his face as he felt it, because he recognized it implicitly.

“Come on, Rei, get up, or we’re going to be late,” Bertholdt said, not sounding at all upset about the prospect.

Reiner held out clumsy hands for the boy, eyes still closed. “Come. Warmth. Sleep.” He muttered, feeling more comfortable and content than he had in who knows how long. Even though he hadn’t gotten many hours in, the sleep he’d just had was some of the soundest most healing sleep he’d ever had. Holding the other boy against him throughout the night had ensured that he felt at peace and at home, and he was not prepared to let the experience end.

“Uh uh. Good soldiers don’t sleep past sunrise. Get up, or I’ll unleash my morning breath on you.”

Reiner got lucky and managed to snag one of Bertholdt’s wrists blindly and tugged him back down. “You don’t get morning breath,” he mumbled, finding the boy’s neck and nuzzling into it, “You sweat it out.”

“That’s the least plausible thing I’ve ever heard,” Bertholdt said and smacked Reiner’s head before extricating himself, though he did it very softly and Reiner could feel the love in it.

The love.

Last night.

Reiner’s eyes finally sprang open and he shot up in bed, surprising Bertholdt so much that he toppled over.

Reiner caught him in his arms and gasped, “Please tell me last night wasn’t all just a dream inspired by my sexually frustrated imagination.”

Bertholdt bit down on his lip as the smile spread across his face. “I don’t know. You tell me. Does _this_ feel like a dream?”

And then he reached behind Reiner’s head, brought him close as his fingers snagged in his hair, and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Reiner forgot where he was, what country he was in, and the fact that his breath probably tasted like poorly preserved garbage as he gripped Bertholdt’s face and kissed the boy back, stunned that this was all real, it was happening, and that it wasn’t all  the cause of some briefly inspired hallucination.

For a moment there was nothing but the sharp perfect pleasure of Bertholdt—but then the room exploded in sound.

“Holy shitting ass!” Eren shouted, of course the loudest of them all, but he wasn’t the only one.

“Crap! They did it! Those two damn idiots finally did it,” Jean exclaimed in disbelief, throwing his arm over Eren’s shoulder, apparently completely having forgotten his animosity in the shock of the moment.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Connie said, as he put on his boots, “They’ve been doing the pervy eye thing at each other forever.”

“Well I think it’s beautiful,” Marco said, reinstating everyone’s belief that he was an angel.

“I think they should get a room.”

“I think they should take the tuna fish off the lunch menu.”

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“I think it’s a miracle!”

“It’s gay as hell.”

“That’s the miracle!”

“Your socks are gay, Thomas.”

“So are your shoes.”

“We all have the same shoes, idiot.”

“No. Yours are definitely gayer.”

“Your momma was gay.”

“Explain _my birth_ then, turd brain.”

“Miracles!”

“God damn it Thomas!”

Reiner pulled away from Bertholdt with a snort. “They’re even bigger idiots than we are.”

“No one’s a bigger idiot than you, Reiner,” Bertholdt assured him.

“Except maybe Thomas,” Somebody shouted to vast amounts of approval.

“You guys are the worst,” Thomas announced, but nobody took it to heart.

“Still love me?” Reiner whispered to the clear eyed and sober Bertholdt.

“More than ever,” Bertholdt assured him, giving him a quick peck on the mouth before getting up. But before he turned away he muttered. “Meet me out by the stables after breakfast and I’ll prove it to you.”

Reiner sat stunned for a moment at the proposal, and then quickly scrambled forward for his uniform, suddenly in a rather large hurry to get breakfast over with.

He was hungry, but not for anything the cafeteria could provide him with. He glanced over at Bertholdt wondering if there was any way they could skip breakfast and jump straight to the main course instead.

He met Bertholdt’s eyes and stared into them meaningfully. The taller boy rolled his eyes and then mouthed the word “pervert” at him.

Reiner couldn’t help but agree. He was definitely a pervert, perhaps one of the worst the grounds had ever seen. But he was also happier than anyone else on the grounds.

And besides, he thought, seeing the quiet wickedness in the other boy’s eyes, Bertholdt was a pervert too.

\-----

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have proven to myself yet again that it's utterly impossible for me to write anything short. This thing was supposed to be just a few pages long to celebrate finishing finals, and it just...evolved. This is my first reibert fic, but definitely not my last. I hope you guys enjoyed the ridiculousness.


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